


Changechild

by LJMouse



Series: Misfit Heroes [2]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJMouse/pseuds/LJMouse
Summary: Medrid just wants to be left alone as he struggles with classes at the Collegium. The young Changechild does not expect to be accepted, given his horrific history, but he could do without the paranoid scrutiny, false assumptions, and bullying.He's got a few good friends on his side, however, and the ghosts from his past are unexpectedly literal.Also, there's a girl.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a monster in the Collegium library. 

 

Medrid reached a long, hairy, snow white arm up to the fourth shelf of a row of books. He pulled several out so that he could see the titles, and then neatly returned them, before finding the book he was searching for. It was heavy -- nearly as heavy as he was -- and he lugged it with difficulty towards a table. 

 

He had to set the book down twice on the way to a table.  _ Maybe,  _ he thought with an exasperated sigh,  _ I should just do my research right here on the floor. It's not like there's  _ anyone  _ around to witness me squatting like a beast on the tiles.  _

 

_ Floor's dusty. I won't do that to the book. _

 

He shambled on towards the table. His legs were so short that what would have been ten paces for a man felt like  _ fifty  _ to him. But finally he reached the table, and tried to lift the book up to the tabletop. It was  _ heavy _ , a thick illustrated book of healing herbs, and his arms shook with the effort.

 

"Got it." A friendly voice said. The book was scooped out of his hands and deposited easily on the table. 

 

Medrid jumped. He hadn't heard the Heraldic trainee approaching. "Hey Leselie."

 

"Katara said you came up here to study." Leselie leaned against the table, and ran a long-fingered hand through his white hair . "Whew. I'm  _ tired. _ " 

 

Both Leselie and the Changechild bore the white hair and blue eyes of those touched by node magic. Leselie was no mage, in fact, he had no trace of any Gift. Medrid had magically healed him six months, pulling from a node to do so. The after-effects had left them both bleached pale. 

 

"Have they been beating you again?" Medrid asked, with a teasing grin. 

 

"Ow, yes. I  _ hate  _ fighting, and that weapons master is a sadist."

 

"Which one?"

 

"Does it matter? They all are. The whole breed."

 

Medrid reached an arm up to the back of the chair and pulled himself up to the seat. He slumped down against the back of the chair, short legs sticking out straight before him, and stared at the book for a long, loathing, moment. "I hate herbals."

 

Leselie tousled Medrid's shaggy head of coarse white hair. It was an affectionate gesture that Medrid would have tolerated from no one else. "If you need someone to help you, runt, come and see me. Herbs, I can do with my eyes closed."

 

Medrid glanced up, "Thanks."

 

Leselie glanced around at the library, curiously. "Where is everyone? I'd think the library would be full of people right now. It's an hour until the dinner bell."

 

Medrid sighed. "It was. There were lots of people here."

 

"There were?"

 

"Until I showed up." Medrid snorted. "I can clear a room pretty good, no?"

 

"Yeah." Leselie said, softly. "That you can."

 

Medrid shrugged. "It's about what I expected when I agreed to come here with you."

 

"Listen, if you need anything -- help with your studies, or just a friend -- come see me." Leselie crouched down on the balls of his feet to be on eye-level with the Changechild. "Please." 

 

Medrid blew a short breath out, then flashed Leselie a blinding, extremely toothy, and patently false grin. "Us misfits have to stick together, don't we?"

 

Leselie squeezed Medrid's shoulder. "Us friends do."

 

Medrid looked sharply away. He mumbled, "Thanks." 

 

"Listen, I've got chores I've got to go do now, but why don't you join me this evening? We were going to play a few rounds of fifty-card, and we could use a fourth player."

 

"Who's playing?" 

 

"Me, Res, and Yarella, of course."

 

"Yarella, of course." Medrid repeated, shaking his head. "When I learned about Companions on my granddad's knee, I never thought of one playing  _ cards _ ."

 

Leselie snorted. "When  _ my  _ Da told me about Valdemar and its Companions, I never envisioned  _ losing  _ at cards to a  _ horse _ . Who _cheats_." 

 

"I'll tell her you called her a horse," Medrid said, with an easy grin.

 

"So, will you meet us in the gardens?" Leselie said, eyes brightening. 

 

Medrid blew a sharp breath out. "No. But only because I have so much studying to do I think my brains are going to melt like a wax candle in the sun."

 

"Do you need  _ help _ ?" Leselie repeated.

 

Medrid shook his head. "I'll be fine. Really."

 

Leselie nodded. "I know you will."

 

After the Trainee had left, Medrid stared at the open library door for a long moment.  _ Ack, Leselie. The one person in this place who really, truly, likes me simply for who I am. I wish I  _ didn't  _ have so much work to do. Including that damned anatomy paper .... Leselie's perhaps the only person here who  _ really  _ considers me his friend, rather than just seeing me as something to be tolerated -- barely -- because their ethics require it. Or in the case of the Companions, because their Rules require it.  _

 

_ Not that I blame them.  _ Guilt stabbed through him.  _ Not that I blame them at all.  _

 

_ But I'm back in the world of reality again. Much as it hurts most of the time. _

 

He looked around the completely empty library.  _ I should probably take this book to my room. The rest of the students need to study; it's not fair of me to frighten them off ... _

 

He hopped off the chair, pulled the book off the table (barely avoiding dropping it) and considered the long distance to his room with dismay.  _ Well, guess I should get started. One step at a time. _

* * *

 

 

"Heyla, Yarella!" Leselie shouted across the Companions' Field, 

 

She heard his voice, and looked up from grazing. It was almost dusk; a low orange sun cast long shadows and golden sunbeams across the field.  _ In this light,  _ he thought _ , she looks unreal. Look at the way the sunlight picks out the lines of her cheekbones, and how it plays through her mane and tail, and the colors it paints on that amazing white coat. She's  _ so  _ beautiful.  _

 

She flagged her tail over her back, arched her neck, and pranced across the field with an easy, floating stride. Six months ago, that playful, graceful movement would have been impossible for her. Six months ago, she was just Yarella, the crippled one; the Companion everyone loved but who no one thought would ever Chose or ever even  _ walk  _ normally. 

 

She jumped,  _ soared _ , over the fence and came to a halt before him.  _ And the rest of the Collegium may view Medrid as a demon incarnate that they have to tolerate because of their unspoken Rules, but I will  _ always _ be grateful to him. He gave Yarella a whole new life when he healed her. And I think in healing her, he gave himself a reason to live, too, at the end there. Because he realized he could do good in the world, as well as evil.  _

 

"Hey gorgeous." He said, in a soft voice that was for her ears only. "How's the grazing?"

 

She made a face. It was a real, genuine, "ick" face. Words formed above her head, a several letters at a time. *There are these little green bugs in the grass. They're all over the leaves. They're  _ gross _ .*

 

He stared at her. 

 

*Well, you  _ asked _ .*

 

Her words were formed in letters above her head because he had not a single trace of any Gift save for the ability to form a bond with a Companion. Yarella had, fortunately, very minor gifts in Fetching and illusions  -- enough to form letters in light in midair. Though she was less than thrilled by the awkward means of communication, it worked, more-or-less.

 

*I smelled a fry-day.* She added, with a hopeful look on her expressive face. She pricked her ears forward, flared her nostrils, and did a fairly decent imitation of a hound.

 

He laughed. "I should make you sit up and beg."

 

*Comp-anions don't beg.* Now she looked extremely dignified. She arched her neck, planted all four feet squarely on the ground and flagged her tail over her back. She, very accurately, portrayed a caricatured essence of  _ Companion _ . 

 

Grinning at her antics, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a napkin full of fried dough-balls. He held the napkin up, and said nothing. And waited. 

 

She heaved a sigh, reared, tucked her legs to her chest, and froze there.  While standing on her hind legs and towering over him, she cast a complete phrase in the air in front of his nose. *Oh please oh please oh please oh please!!!* 

 

He burst out laughing, "You are shameless."

 

She dropped to the ground, and made the begging-hound face again.

 

Still chuckling, he opened the napkin up and held it out for her. While she inhaled the dough balls from his hand, he rested his head against her shoulder. "Oh, Yarella. I love you."

 

Briefly, she paused from eating to nudge his shoulder with her nose, by way of acknowledgement. Then she returned to the fritters. In moments, they were gone. He dropped the napkin back in his pocket, and said conversationally, "Any of your horse buddies up for a game of cards? Medrid's got studying to do; I couldn't coax him out of his room tonight."

 

She snorted. *Are you kid-ding? Play  _ cards _ ? They're too holier-than-thou for that.*

 

He patted her on the shoulder. "Well, then, I'm glad I got you. Even if you  _ cheat _ ."

 

*I do  _ not _ .* She looked offended. 

 

"Yeah, right."

 

Yarella nudged him in the ribs. There was a gleam in her eyes that made him instantly suspicious. *But I know some-one who  _ might  _ be int-erest-ed.*

 

"Female?" He guessed, casting his eyes upward in an appeal to the Havens to help him with matchmaking magic horses.

 

*But of course. And she's cute, too, you'll like her.*

 

"Aargg, Yarella ..."

 

*Hold on a moment ...*

 

Yarella's eyes went distant for a couple of heartbeats. He knew from experience that look meant she was speaking to another Companion. Then she nodded. *It's set-tled.*

 

He held his hands out in mute supplication to unseen Gods.  _ Save me, please! _

 

*She was Chosen about a month ago.*

 

"Oh." He blinked. There had only been one new Herald in the last month, but her arrival had been spectacular enough to fire the rumor mill. Terance, her Companion, had taken a beating -- literally -- to get to her, and would forever bear the scars on his hide. "Erran. The one from the Karse border?" 

 

*Yeah. That one.*

 

He considered. "Well, at least she probably knows how to play fifty-card."

 

_ He  _ had learned to play fifty-card in Karse, several years ago. It was a game of strategy, popular among the Karse commoners. He'd been teaching some of his new friends at the Collegium the game, but it was an acquired skill. Only Yarella was any real competition for him; she'd learned the game somewhere.  _ Possibly in a past life; I wish I could get her to tell me about her past. She says it's against the Rules. I gather if I was a  _ real  _ Herald, with mindmagic, I wouldn't even be entertaining thoughts of what Companions really are. Sneaky Guardians don't want their Chosen thinking along those lines. So, a bit of suggestion, a little magic, and voila, the Heralds have  _ no  _ clue. _

 

_ Makes me glad that sort of thing doesn't work on me. If I can't hear it, it can't touch me ... and it drives me nuts sometimes, because I know why they keep those secrets, and I agree with them. Which means I'm now keeping the secret as well.  _

 

_ * _ Penny for your thoughts.*

 

He realized he'd fallen silent while leaning against her shoulder. "Sorry. Just wondering what kind of person is a White Winds mage in one life, and a card sharp in another, and now is a fancy magical horse entrusted with the task of being divine guide to one bastard mongrel wanderer."

 

He could see several possible responses war with each other; her expressive face betrayed her amusement and indignation both. Then she surprised him. With ears pricked, she said. *What makes you think the mage didn't play cards? I had to eat  _ somehow.* _

 

She sauntered off, with tail in the air and nose uplifted. She got several strides away, and looked back over her shoulder. *Not* 

 

_ That  _ was a running joke. Their form of communication was so limited that she'd started abbreviating words and common phrases. "Not" in this context meant, "I'm NOT a horse!" Which was something she'd told him so many times that she'd complained she was wearing those particular words  _ out _ .

 

He laughed, and followed her towards the stables, where there would be light for their evening game. 

 

* * *

 

Medrid balanced the book on his feet, to keep it off the dusty stones of the floor, and stared up in dismay at the staircase. Each step was almost as high as his knee.  _ Sadistic bastards put me on the top floor. I  _ hate  _ stairs.  _

 

He had another flight of stairs to go to reach his room. He also had a stitch in his side, a cramp in his calf, and a growing headache.  _ I do not need another dazzle-headache. I need to  _ study _ tonight.  _

 

He sighed, hoisted the heavy and unwieldy book to his shoulder, and mounted the first step. And the second. And the third.

 

He was up to the tenth step when footsteps behind him made him turn around. Blues. The footsteps belong to Elsen and Travik, two noble boys, who also lived on his floor. Elsen was tall, thin, blond. Travik short -- though he still towered a good two feet over the top of Medrid's head -- and redhaired. The two were, as far as Medrid was concerned, cut from the same cloth. 

 

Medrid averted his eyes hastily, and stepped aside to let them past. There was a window behind him; the sill was just above his head and he bumped his skull on the lip of it. The window was open; cool evening air ruffled his hair.  _ Maybe they'll leave me alone for once.  _

 

"Didn't see you at lunch, freak." Elsen said, conversationally.

 

Medrid propped the book on his bare toes -- his opposable toes didn't like boots much and he'd given up on shoes indoors. "Wasn't hungry." 

 

His voice was wary.  _ I've got reason to be hostile to these two. I think they're the ones who keep breaking into my room and  _ taking  _ things. Like that anatomy paper that was due yesterday. I don't think the Katara  _ believed  _ me when I said I'd done the work. They want me  _ gone  _ and that makes it easy enough for them to believe the worst.  _

 

"Want some help with that thing? It looks heavy." Travik, having reached Medrid's level on the stairs, grabbed for the book. 

 

Medrid tried to defend his book, but when he blocked Travik's hand with both of his, Travik snagged his wrists. Elsen then grabbed the book away from him.

 

"No!" Medrid protested, as Elsen very casually held the book out the window and dropped it. 

 

He fought down the urge to ball his fists.  _ One upon a time, I was a good finger taller than him. Noble or not, I would have beaten the arrogant little prick into the ground and taken my lumps as they came. Worst that would have happened would be a whipping from my father, and maybe a little public humiliation for striking a noble who had it coming. A couple hours in the stocks, probably. It would have been  _ worth  _ it. Unfortunately ... _

 

Unfortunately, he was now half Elsen's height, and built like a collision between a monkey and a ferret.  _ Biting him in the leg, unfortunately, is not an option. Not if I want to  _ stay _ here. And damnit! I want to be a healer more than anything else in the world and these ... these ... I can't even think of a word foul enough ... these two want to ruin my chances just to be  _ cruel!  _ It's just not  _ fair! 

 

He felt a lump rising in his throat. To his horror, the words that came out of his mouth were ragged with suppressed fury and rage. The dazzle-headache was striking in full force; he could barely  _ see _ . " _ Why  _ did you do that?" He wailed, totally ineffectually. "That was  _ cruel _ !"

 

Elsen smirked. "Whatsa matter, beastling? Missing your book?"

 

Both boys, laughing, shoved past him. They shoved past so hard that he nearly  _ fell  _ down the stairs. He caught himself, and snarled after them, "Who's the beast? Not me!" 

 

_ Oh, real original. Blast it. That book has to be  _ ruined!  _ And they'll think  _ I  _ did it. Everything's my fault. Because of who I am. Because of what I did.  _

 

He took a deep breath, and wiped the tears away from his eyes.  _ I can't  _ change _ the fact I was mixed up and terrified and thought the world had changed around me, not that  _ I  _ had been changed. I can't  _ change _ the fact that I was ... confused. But I've got my head on  _ straight  _ now. And I'll  _ die  _ before I let those ... those ... _ Again, a suitable insult failed him,  _ Before I let  _ them _ stop me from being a Healer.  _

 

_ Because all I have  _ left  _ is my Healing gift. And if I can't be a Healer, what then?  _

 

He felt like he was walking a tight rope over a bottomless chasm. He could almost  _ feel  _ the cold wind making the rope sway. He felt  _ dizzy. I can't let them knock me off, make me fall. I  _ can't _. _

 

He took a deep breath, and composed himself.  _ Okay, runt ...  _ Thinking of himself in terms of Leselie's familiar endearment made everything brighter, somehow.  _ You can't beat them at their own game. So let's get some officials involved. This isn't right, this isn't fair, and that's what Heralds are for -- fixing the things that aren't right and aren't fair. The librarian's assistant is a Herald;  _ she'll  _ help _ .  _ What's her name? Seya, I think. She just made her Whites, but she broke her arm in a fall off her Companion's back, so they won't let her go out until it's healed.  _

 

_ Or maybe Leselie?  _

 

_ No. Leselie's done enough for me. Anyway, Leselie's just a Trainee. I need someone with some authority to handle this. _

 

He ran a hand over his face, then began the awkward descent down the stairs. It was a couple stories to the ground.  By the time he'd reached the first floor, his headache had faded a bit, but his legs were killing him.

 

The book was, as he'd feared, badly damaged. It had hit the ground with such force that the spine had ripped and a number of pages had come loose. Worse, it had landed in a mud puddle. He gathered the loose pages up, verified he'd found them all, reassembled them in the proper order inside the book, and went in search of help. 

 

The dinner bell chimed just as he reached the library. A handful of people brushed past him; nobody acknowledged his presence.  _ Which is an improvement over picking on me, anyway. I can  _ deal  _ with being shunned, for what I did. That's only fair. They don't have to  _ like  _ me. But it's not  _ right  _ that they should  _ torment _ me when Talia herself said that I should be a Healer.  _

 

He sighed, and shoved the battered book up onto a table. Then he hitched himself up onto a chair, and regarded the book sadly.  _ It was such a nice book, too. Hand colored paintings of the herbs, and a leather binding. Old and expensive. I hate to think what they're going to do to those boys, but they rather deserve it. I can't prove they've been stealing stuff from me, but I  _ witnessed  _ this. And if ratting on them is what it takes to get them to  _ leave me alone _ , then so be it. _

 

His stomach growled. He ignored it.  _ I've gone much hungrier. Two skipped meals won't hurt me. Anyway, if I leave this book alone, and Elsen sees it, he may do something with it. I'd lose the evidence. And I'm sure as Havens not going to drag the blasted thing around with me until I can find Sera. I  _ swear  _ it weighs as much as  _ I  _ do.  _

 

He folded his long arms, and slumped in the chair. He'd just wait until Sera showed up after dinner, to help the students who needed to study in the evening. 

 

_ Damn _ ,  _ my head is just pounding _ .

 

* * *

 

Medrid had been sitting alone in the library for a couple of candlemarks when a few students started arriving. They eyed him warily, and he returned their stares with a scowl. He was in no mood for any more torment today. Unfortunately, there were two sets of students at the Collegium: those who left the room when he entered, and those who found great delight in hazing him.

 

_ I swear, if anyone else picks on me, I'll go straight to the top. I'll take it to the Queen if I have to. I want to be left  _ alone _. That's  _ not  _ too much to ask. They don't have to like me. They don't even have to be polite to me. If they want to call me murderer, and talk about me behind my back, so be it.  _ That,  _ I have coming. But they can bloody well  _ leave me alone! 

 

"What  _ happened  _ to that book?" 

 

He was so lost in his angry thoughts that he didn't hear the girl approaching. He stared dumbly at her, trying to formulate a response that would not be either stupid or furiously angry in tone.

 

"I said, what did you  _ do  _ to that book?"

 

She was perhaps thirteen, one of the Bardic students.  He didn't know her name, but he recognized her as one of the kids who set at Elsan's table at meals. 

 

"Don't you know how  _ valuable  _ books are? You should take  _ better care of them.  _ Or they might not let you in here at all." Her tone indicated that she thought that was a good thing and implied he was a beast. She reached to take the book from him.

 

"Don't touch it." He growled. And, involuntarily, showed teeth in a snarl. 

 

She snapped her hand back, and retreated out of biting range.

 

He sighed, and ran a hand over his head. "Sorry. But don't touch it. I wasn't the one who damaged it; I want to talk to Seya when she gets here."

 

"Sure you didn't damage it." The girl said, with a sniff. " _ My  _ parents taught me to  _ respect _ books. Particularly books that  _ aren't even mine _ ." Maliciously, she added, "But then, I still  _ have  _ parents to listen to."

 

"How  _ dare  _ you!" He lunged over the table at her. 

 

_ I'm going to KILL that little bitch! How dare she! That  _ was  _ wrong _ ! How  _ dare  _ she! 

 

And, bitterly angry grief screamed in his soul, _PAPA_ _! _

 

She ran backwards, faster than he was.  Instinct propelled him to  _ reach  _ for the magic. He didn't even know what he was going to  _ do _ ; he was angry beyond reason. But he wanted to do  _ something _ . 

 

And a dazzle-headache struck that was so fierce, so raging, that he collapsed.  _ Papa, mama ... _

 

It took several minutes for full consciousness to return. When awareness came back to him, he wished he could retreat back into himself. Nausea gripped him. Spots danced before his eyes, bright against the red of his eyelids. And he could feel his own heart beat in the form of a pounding pain. Like someone driving a spike into his skull.  _ Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.  _

 

"Medrid." A not particularly friendly voice said, "Can you hear me?" 

 

He forced his eyes open.  _ Seya.  _ He opened his mouth.

 

"Good. You're awake. Ariana told me that you damaged a book, and when she told you to be careful with the books, you attacked her."

 

_ The lying bitch _ . "That's not what happened ..."

 

The young Herald yanked him, rather roughly, to his feet. He swayed dizzily. Coherent thought wouldn't form for several minutes. "You tried to use magic against her, didn't you? Fyfle says he felt you reaching for the Heartstone under the palace."

 

"I  _ can't _ ." He shook his head. "I  _ didn't _ ." 

 

_ But I  would have if could have. Blast it ... I'd still be a threat if I hadn't burnt my magic out. And I'm  _ glad  _ I did!  _

 

She scowled at him. Through eyes brimming with tears of pain, he could see her face.  _ Oh, Yeah. The book.  _ Thickly, he said, "Got to talk to you." 

 

She shoved him towards the door. "Start talking. But it better be good, Medrid. If you really tried to use magic against her, I don't know what we'll do."

 

" _ Please  _ don't expell me!" He grabbed her wrist.

 

She pulled free, and wiped her wrist against her trouser leg. It was as if he carried a contagious disease. "That's not for me to decide." 

 

In brief, pain-muddled sentences, he related what had happened with the two boys. "... And Elsan dropped it out the window." He concluded. 

 

They were climbing the stairs; he had to nearly run to keep up with her slow walk. She frowned as they passed the indicated window. "Still, you  _ can't _ threaten people. I don't care  _ what _ they say to you; bring it to one of us. One of your instructors, one of the Heralds, even to Talia if you have to. We're here to help you."

 

The last sentence didn't sound particularly sincere. He snapped angrily, "I was going to  _ do  _ that, but she wouldn't leave me  _ alone. Don't you understand _ ? I just want to be left  _ alone! _ "

 

She shrugged. "If you want to be a Healer, Medrid, you're going to have to learn to deal with people. Even when they're not being nice to you.

 

"But ..."

 

"We won't always be around to help you, and 'I just want to be left alone' isn't  _ realistic _ . You've got to be  _ realistic _ . You're  _ going _ to get nasty things said to you, because of ... because of what you  _ did!  _ so you're just going to have to get used to it and accept that's going to happen sometimes." 

 

They reached the last landing. He was winded, his head was still hurting so badly that he felt sick to his stomach, and he didn't need to be empathic to sense the annoyance rolling off of her in waves. He stepped away, and shrugged. "Can't change what I did. Can only affect my  _ future _ , not my past. If they don't like that, that's  _ their _ problem." 

 

He reached his room, pushed the door open, and entered. He turned to face her, and said with a gulping sob, "She accused me of killing my  _ parents _ . I'm supposed to stand there and take it?"

 

The Herald regarded him impassively. "Is it true?"

 

He felt the anger boil up.  _ Blast her. She's supposed to be  _ helping _ me!  _

 

"No!"

 

"That's not what I heard." She speared him with her finger. "Mikael was my  _ agemate _ , Medrid. He was out on his first circuit!"

 

He closed his eyes. "Seya, I  _ can't _ change the past. And I  _ won't _ tell you that it wasn't my fault. Because  _ ''it's all my fault'  _ keeps me awake at night. But I came here because I want to spend the rest of my life doing  _ good. Why can't you people understand that? _ "

 

He screamed the last at her, eyes flying open, fists balling. He took an angry step towards her, "Just tell them I want to be left  _ alone _ ! That's  _ it! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! _ "

 

She stared at him, not bothering to disguise the loathing on her face. Then she addressed a comment, not to him, but to an unseen voice in her head, "Fyfle, it's just kids being kids." To Medrid, she added, "Don't leave your room until someone comes and gets you."

 

The Herald turned on her heel, then considered something, and turned back. "Oh, don't take any more books from the library if you can't keep them safe."

 

"Now  _ that _ ..."

 

But she ignored his angry protest, and vanished down the stairs.

 

He slammed the door, and scrambled up onto the bed. And pulled a pillow over his head to block out any noise, and cried angrily into his mattress.  _ It's not fair. It's not fair. All I want to be is  _ left alone _! _


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi." A voice said, out of the dark. "You must be Leselie and Res. And Yarella, of course. Terance said you'd be down here." A girl stepped into the light of the lantern. She was dark haired, olive-skinned, and older than Leselie had expected at around seventeen.  She flashed a shy grin at him, "Terance said that you would be playing fifty-card?"

 

"I'm Leselie. Come join us." Leselie indicated the bales of straw they'd pulled under a tree to sit on. There was a lantern on one bale, which was functioning as a table. Three other bales had been pulled up, to lean against; Yarella was curled up on the ground with a carved wooden block to hold her cards. "We're playing for walnuts; the horse doesn't have any money."

 

"Yeah," Res agreed easily. "And I don't want to lose my wages to her, either."

 

"She's  _ not  _ a horse!" The girl protested, scandalized. 

 

Yarella snorted agreement. 

 

Erran claimed the last bale. Silence fell, as they looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

 

 _She's pretty_. Leselie observed, as he shuffled the deck and began to deal cards out. Yarella's minor fetching gift came in handy here; she snagged her cards, one at a time, from the air and floated them to her carved block. A single card was about the upper limit of her Gift's ability -- she had fine control, just no power. _And I believe she justified playing cards with her Gift_ _as "practice" to the rest of the Companion herd._

 

"Terance says you've been to Karse." 

 

Leselie nodded. In her language, he said, "A few times. My father's an Adept so we always had to be careful."

 

"Are you a mage?" Likely out of consideration for the others, she spoke in accented Valdemaran.  


 

He shook his head. "I don't have any gifts."

 

Oh. She didn't say it, but by her expression, he could see she was wondering how he'd become a Herald.

 

He added, "Sometimes, the lack of a Gift is an advantage. It's almost certainly  _ saved  _ my life at least once, since Yarella butted her big nose into my life."

 

Erran glanced sharply at the Companion. She lifted an eyebrow at Yarella, "You let him talk about you that way?"

 

_ :Well,:  _ Yarella informed her, in a sensible tone of mental voice,  _ :It certainly is a big nose.: _

 

Erran gaped. "You talked to me." She turned to Leselie, "Your Companion just spoke to me. I didn't think they spoke to anyone but their Chosen!"

 

Res snorted from across the straw bale table, "Speak? She never shuts up."

 

_ :How else can I pick on you?:  _ Yarella informed him, including Erran in that comment.

 

Erran looked at Leselie. Leselie shrugged. "I can't hear a word she's saying."

 

"Consider yourself lucky, man." Res, at Leselie's right, had the first go. He threw a low-numbered card onto the discard pile, and pulled a new one from the leftover cards. 

 

Erran shook her head, and took her turn, discarding two cards and pulling two new ones. Yarella played three consecutively numbered cards, and pulled three new ones from the deck. They floated low to the bale of straw, so no one else could see, down the side, and to her block of wood. 

 

"So," Leselie said, as he took his turn, "What do you think of being a Herald?"

 

Erran's eyes lit up. "Terance is the best thing that's ever happened to me. He's  _ wonderful _ !"

 

Leselie grinned, and lifted an eyebrow at Yarella. "I rather know that feeling."

 

Erran dimpled cutely when she smiled. Leselie decided he was very attracted to her, and wondered if she had a partner yet. She said, "And everybody's so  _ nice  _ here. I was always told that Companions and Heralds were demons. I never thought I'd  _ be  _ one. Be a Herald."

 

Leselie chuckled, "My Da told  _ me _ that they were special Guardian spirits, and let me tell you, I never thought  _ I  _ would have a Companion of my own. And if my Da could see me now, he'd probably faint from the shock of it."

 

"Why's that?"

 

Leselie shrugged. "I love my Da, but I never lived up to his expectations. I'm the son of two Adepts -- and I suspect he hitched up with my mother at least partly because he wanted a magically gifted child -- and here I am, so unGifted that Yarella thinks it's a birth defect. Like I was born without an arm, or a leg, except I was born without even the potential for mindmagic."

 

Erran sighed. "I know how that goes ..." She played a card. "I never lived up to my father's expectations either ..." She lifted her head, listening to an  unseen voice in her head for a second. She smiled at them, then. "Terance says I'm living up to  _ his  _ expectations."

 

"Aren't Companions wonderful?" Leselie grinned at Yarella.

 

"He really is the best thing in my life."

 

Yarella cast into the air, *And if this con-ver-sation gets any more sugary, I'm going to get  _ fat _ .*

 

Erran laughed, "I like her!"

 

"Yeah, she's a regular wit." Leselie snorted. "Your turn, Yarella ..."

 

* * *

 

A pounding headache woke Medrid a few hours before dawn. His stomach was also snarlingly hungry; he'd missed two meals.

 

_ I can probably find something in the kitchens; the cook is actually moderately sympathetic to me.  _

 

_ Except that Seya forbid me from leaving my room. Sigh. Oh, well, I've gone hungry plenty of times in my life. This is nothing  _ new _. _

 

He pulled the pillow down over his head, harder, as if that would make the pounding in his head go away. The headache wasn't nearly as bad as it  _ could _ get. A few months ago, when he'd arrived, Elspeth and a couple of the resident Tayledras mages had tried to determine how much of a gift he had left. The verdict had been  _ none _ except for Healing and a few minor remnants of mindspeaking -- which had most likely been saved because he's subconsciously protected himself  _ there _ . The rest was  _ gone _ .

 

And they hadn't been particularly merciful in the testing process.  _ I don't blame them. They wanted to make sure I wasn't a threat. Yarella's word wasn't good enough; she's a magic user, but a minor one. Elspeth is an Adept.  _ The after-effects had left him sick in bed, nauseous and dizzy, for weeks. 

 

_ And sooner or later, I'm going to learn to not reach for what's not there. It just makes me sick, and there's no point to it. But  _ reflexes _ are hard to deny.  _

 

_ I don't even know what I was thinking of  _ doing  _ to that girl. I was acting purely on instinct even when I  _ was  _ an Adept-potential madman. I didn't understand what I was doing, I just  _ did  _ it.  _

 

His bed moved. The straw mattress rustled. 

 

He froze.  _ There's someone in the room with me. _

 

He lay very still, listening.  _ I don't smell anything. I don't hear anything. What made the bed move? It felt as if someone sat down on the corner of the mattress.  _

 

Warily, he lifted his head. He didn't need light to see the intruder in his room; she was glowing with a bright white light of her own. A woman, not much older than his own eighteen years, sat on the corner of his bed. A  _ Herald _ , but her Whites were cut oddly -- they seemed curiously ornate, and he recognized the style from woodcuts in books.  _ Antique. That style went out maybe a century ago.  _

 

She smiled sadly at him.  _ :Hello, Medrid.: _

 

He realized he could see his wardrobe right through her. A  _ ghost _ . 

 

He yelped, burst naked out of the bed, and bolted for the door. He flung the door open, ran out into the hall, and realized he was still naked. Swearing, he ran back  _ into  _ the room, and grabbed a robe from the back of a chair. Being seen  _ naked _ was even more terrifying than sharing a room with a  _ ghost _ .

 

_ :Wait!:  _ The ghost begged.

  
_ Like hells!  _ He thought in terror, as he bolted down the hall on all fours with the robe flapping around his ankles. 


	3. Chapter 3

Erran had barely drifted off to sleep when footsteps creaked across her floor. She yanked her covers over her head, and told herself,  _ Just this old building settling.  _

 

She yawned sleepily. It was late -- close to dawn -- but she'd been up until the wee hours, playing fifty card with Res, Leselie, and Leselie's rather irreverent Companion Yarella.  _ I like them. I like this  _ place _. Leselie's a doll, too -- that white hair makes him look so  _ distinguished _ , but he's got a sly sense of humor. He and that Companion are well matched. _

 

_ :Awake, sweetling?: _

 

She slid easily into conversation with Terance.  _ :Yeah, my floorboards creaked and woke me up. The building's settling.: _

 

She felt him examine that statement.  _ :Are you  _ sure _?: _

 

The images he sent with that question made her hair rise. He was terrified that there was someone in the room with her; an intruder. A rapist, an assassin, someone who just didn't like the alliance with Karse. Someone lurking in the shadows who might  _ hurt  _ her.

 

_ :Yes, I'm sure. I would have heard the door open.: _

 

She felt him wince at the images that she sent with  _ that _ statement. Yeah, she'd hear the door open. She was a light sleeper; she had  _ reason  _ to be a light sleeper. 

 

_ :I wish I'd come for you sooner, sweetling.: _

 

_ :Oh, Terance. I'm just glad you  _ came _. I spent the last few years dreaming someone would come for me, and take me away from that man. And then  _ you  _ came. And you  _ did.:

 

He sent her a mental version of a hug.  _ :Love you, little one.: _

 

The floorboards creaked again. They really  _ did  _ sound like footsteps.  _ That's annoying. That's always going to be waking me up at night. _

 

The footsteps crossed back through the room.

 

_ Maybe if I can figure out which boards it is, I can put a couple nails in them in the morning, to stop the creaking.  _ She opened her eyes, pushed the covers down, and stared face-to-face with a man leaning over her bed.

 

_ :TERANCE!: _

 

His response was profane. He added,  _ :COMING!:  _

 

She sprang up, landing in a standing position on the mattress. Frantically, she grabbed the first object at hand to throw at the intruder, which happened to be the pillow on the bed. She swung it as hard as she could, intending to hit him in the head and then jump past him onto the floor and break for the door.

 

The pillow went  _ through _ the intruder.

 

She staggered into him, thrown off balance as the follow-through brought her wrists into the middle of his head. It was like touching  _ ice _ . Except there was nothing to touch; her visitor was noncorporeal.  

 

Erran screamed, and bolted through him. It was like diving through icewater. 

 

There was a crash below as Terance kicked in a door. Hooves thundered on the floor.

 

She reached the door in one stride, yanked fumbled with the latch, yanked it open, and bolted into the hall.  _ :I'm coming!:  _ Terance's mental voice was frantic. 

 

_ :GHOST!:  _ She shouted back.

 

_ :Good or bad?:  _ He responded, as he skidded around the corner to her hall. Her scream, and the sound of pounding hooves, had woken the rest of the dormitory. 

 

_ :How in Havens should I know? I didn't exactly stick around to  _ ask _!: _

 

He reached her. She latched onto his neck, shaking. Calmer now, he nuzzled her hair.  _ :Not all spirits are evil, sweetling.: _

 

"If he was one of the good guys, he could have  _ knocked  _ before entering my room!" She snapped. 

 

At that instant, something white and hairy scrambled down the stairs on all fours. It saw them when it reached the landing, and bolted for them.

 

Erran saw it, and screamed, "What's  _ that _ ?"

 

It looked like a white-furred collision between a ferret and a monkey. It had jaws and a flexible spine like a ferret, arms like a monkey, a barrel chest, short legs, and a huge skull on a skinny neck. It was wearing an inside-out bathrobe that trailed behind it on the ground. When it saw her, it pulled up short, panting, and said, "There's a GHOST in my room!" 

 

Terrance shot her a brief explanation.  _ :That's Medrid. He's a Changechild.: _

 

"In mine, too." Erran said, wary. This was the first time she'd seen Medrid, but the other students and Trainees had plenty of stories to tell of his prickly attitude. 

 

"A Herald." The creature panted. "But in old clothes, like a century old."

 

Erran tilted her head, trying to remember. "Mine was wearing Whites too."

 

"What in Havens is going on here?" A Herald -- one that she didn't know, an older man -- appeared in the hallway. "Medrid, you're supposed to be in your room until we figure out what we're going to do with you."

 

"But there's a ..."

 

"Seya said she told you  _ explicitly  _ to stay in your ..."

 

"But ..."

 

The Herald folded his arms and glowered down at Medrid.

 

"But Morgan ..." Medrid said, anger replacing terror. 

 

"Return to your room, Medrid." 

 

"No!" He said, frantically. 

 

Morgan's expression darkened. "You were  _ told _ to  _ stay ..." _

 

_ "But there's a GHOST in my room!" _ Medrid said, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Terror had made him shed; a cloud of white fur scattered through the air.

 

"What?"

 

"And in  _ mine _ !" Erran butted in. "Right by my bed!" 

 

Morgan glanced from her to Terance, and back. "Is that why he's up here?"

 

Terance nodded. Erran said, "I was  _ scared _ . He thought I was being attacked.  _ I  _ thought I was being attacked."

 

Morgan sighed, and looked down at both of them. "Haunts. There's haunts in the rooms?"

 

"Yes sir." Medrid sighed. "All things considered, I'd rather face down the queen herself than stay in a room with a ghost in it."

 

"Not all ghosts are evil. Still, I see your point." Morgan glanced at Terance. "Did you or any of the others pick anything up?"

 

Terance shook his head in a negative. Erran glanced up at him, then said, "He said to tell you that they nobody's picking up any anger or magic beyond the usual." 

 

Morgan ran a hand over his face. "Okay, it's almost time to get up anyway. Medrid, come with me; Erran, go get that blasted Companion out of here and make sure he doesn't break his neck going back down the stairs, you hear me?"

 

He raised his voice to the rest of the students, most of whom had their doors open and were staring around the corner at the scene. "Everyone else, go back to bed!"


	4. Chapter Four

They weren't going to kick him out. The thought of being expelled from the Collegium had been more frightening than the spook in his room; he felt like dancing as he walked back to his room.

 

_ And wouldn't  _ that  _ be amusing?  _

 

No, he'd just been assigned to  _ more  _ sessions with a mindhealer. He wasn't even being  _ punished _ , exactly, though he was informed that it was  _ his  _ responsibility to take care of books in his care and he was therefore responsible for restitution on the book. Since he had no money to his name -- no possessions at all, in fact, except for his clothes and the Healer's Collegium had even given him those -- he was to work in the library after dinner for three candlemarks for the next two months to make up the funds.

 

_ Which is totally unfair. I'm not the one who threw the book out the window. But, since they're not going to expel me, I'm not going to argue the point.  _

 

 _The Heralds_ really _don't like me. Mikael was popular; they'll never forgive me for that. I could be_ Chosen _and they wouldn't forgive me. Havens, I even have their_ _ghosts expressing their opinions by appearing in my room. They're mortal, and I caused the death of one of their own. And it was_ me, _not an evil sorcerer possessing my body. And it was not bullies picking on me that I killed, it was_ my own family _and those people at the Inn and a Herald and Companion._

 

_ And my own family. And two people by Yarella's hooves. And a man's lover. And the guy who suicided, because my guilt made him think of his guilt and the crimes  _ he  _ had committed ...  _

 

_ Guilt. Okay, now I'm feeling guilty again. Blast it, this isn't fair ... I couldn't  _ help  _ what I was. Maybe I do need to see that mindhealer again.  _

 

_ Oh, Father ... I'm so sorry.  _

 

_ * * * * *  _

 

He had his first class an hour later. Herbals -- and his studying was not completed because of the events of the night before. With reluctance, he arrived early.

 

"Healer Katara," He addressed the woman formally, with eyes cast down as he warily entered her study. "I'm afraid I've got a problem."

 

She sat in her study, behind a desk covered with books.  She snorted, "Yeah. I heard. You  _ can't  _ use your gifts -- for one, you're going to hurt yourself trying. And for two, it's  _ wrong _ ."

 

"It was  _ instinct _ ."

 

"That's what's so scary about you, Medrid. You act on instinct, without  _ thinking _ ."

 

He blew out a sharp breath.  _ She's my teacher. I can't be rude to her.  _ "Look, I didn't get a chance to study last night."

 

She sighed. "You have a paper due tomorrow, Medrid."

 

"Can I have another day?" He asked, hopefully. "It's not  _ my fault _ ."

 

She scowled at him. "Okay.  _ One day _ . Though after that anatomy paper ..."

 

"Somebody  _ stole  _ my anatomy paper ..."

 

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "And you still haven't rewritten it and turned it in."

 

He balled his fists.  _ Because I've got three other papers due within the next few days, two candlemarks every day with a mindhealer, several classes, and now three candlemarks in the library every evening on top of that!  _

 

She lifted her eyebrow at him and waited for his response. "I'll do them both. The paper on mountain herbs day after tomorrow, and the anatomy paper three days from now. Okay?"

 

She sighed. "Medrid ..."

 

He flung his arms up in the air in exasperation. "Okay, fine. I'll have them  _ both done tomorrow _ ."

 

_ Which means I won't sleep at all tonight, but oh well. I'm  _ not  _ going to fail at this. I'm  _ going  _ to be a Healer! _

 

He turned on his heel and stalked out, annoyance making his hair stand on end. 

 

_ * * * * * _

 

A candlemark later, Katara veiled her temper with an effort, as she watched Medrid work with a patient.  _ More like a victim, the way he's scaring her. He's got the Gift -- Goddess bless, he probably had the Gift before he was Changed, along with half a dozen other Gifts -- but his bedside manner leaves quite a bit to be desired. _

 

The Changechild was attempting to soothe a bad case of insect bites on the arm of a Herald's child. The child stood rigid, eyes wide, as Medrid gripped her arm tightly in his hands. Katara rested her own hand on top of Medrid's two, "watching" him work with Othersight.

 

_ Goddess bless, he does have the gift. _

 

He was  _ not  _ the most powerful Healer she'd ever run across. At least, not now -- from the stories that Leselie had told her of how he'd healed both Leselie and his Companion, he'd once commanded the power of an Adept.  _ Scary, that. Adept class and  _ no  _ training, running on pure instinct. He could just as easily have Changed them as Healed them, and it says a lot about his instincts that what he did succeeded. He didn't just Heal Yarella's legs, he reshaped them. Without knowing anything about anatomy, with no training, and under great emotional stress, he  _ reshaped  _ her legs.  _

 

_ For that matter, 'Ella said that she was afraid he was going to create another Lake Evendim. She said she's  _ never  _ seen anyone strip out the kind of power that kid did from mere leys. He wasn't even pulling from a Heartstone or even a node. Just leys.  _

 

_ Unfortunately, I don't think he'll  _ ever  _ be able to command that sort of power again. Pity, we could have used it, too. _

 

The fingers under her hand were tense. Medrid was at least as terrified as the Herald's child whom he was helping. Despite that, however, he was doing a credible job: she could feel him soothing away inflammation, and turning the body's own defenses against an incipient infection. 

 

"Nicely done." She said, when he finally snatched his hands away from the girl's arm, and retreated several steps. 

 

Medrid's eyes were wary, and there was hostility there. "Yeah." He said, sullenly, and retreated even farther, to the far side of the room. He stood opposite Katara's four other students.  _ All of whom have far more minor gifts. But I expect the rest of them will go much farther than he does. If Medrid  _ ever  _ makes a successful Healer, I'll eat my uniform. The damned boy just doesn't have what it takes. He doesn't have the  _ people  _ skills. And he needs about ten times the  _ people  _ skills a normal Healer would have, to compensate for the fur. He even gets under my skin sometimes, when I  _ know  _ why he acts the way he does.  _

 

Medrid stared at the ground, occasionally flicking up suspicious glances at the other students. For their part, they coolly ignored him. 

 

"Does anyone have any comments on what Medrid did?"

 

"Yeah." Marje, one of the older students spoke up. "Medrid, if you  _ smile  _ at them, you're less likely to scare the kids to death. You're glowering like stormcloud while you work."

 

"What, like this?" Medrid bared his teeth in an expression that had very little to do with good humor. Then he dropped the snarling grin, and said coldly, "I'll try that next time. If the brat pees her pants,  _ you  _ get the clean it up."

 

The "brat" in question sniffed and informed Katara. " _ I  _ knew he wasn't scary. He just  _ looks  _ that way."

 

Medrid brightened considerably. He gave the girl a genuine smile this time, one that bared fewer teeth. "Really?"

 

_ Poor young man. He's so hungry for  _ any  _ acceptance, even that of a seven year old girl. If he was just less  _ prickly _ , he'd get it, too. He lights up when he smiles like that, teeth or no. It almost makes him cute, and it  _ does  _ make him a lot less frightening to people.  _

 

"Really." The girl said, encouraged by Medrid's expression. Her own fear -- which she'd denied -- melted away. "Thanks for making my arm stop itching."

 

"You're welcome." A stormcloud passed over Medrid's face, and he stared at his feet. "It was easy." 

At the dark expression on his face, the child tensed, and the other Healer-trainees scowled at Medrid in instant response.

 

_ There he goes again. I swear his ability to turn the mood in a room sour is a Gift in and of itself. All he has to do is frown, and everybody responds in kind. He's  _ not  _ projecting, it's just that he's so noticeable everybody's watching him anyway.  _

 

* * *

 

"So what's the story on the Changechild, anyway?" Erran asked, walking beside Terance. She slouched as she walked, thumbs tucked in her belt, and boots kicking at the tall grass.

 

Terance glanced sideways at her.  _ :Leselie found him. To make a long story very short, he was caught in a Changecircle the winter before last. It blasted every channel he had open, plus turned him into what you see. He  _ was _ an extremely powerful madman. With the most powerful projective empathy we've seen in a long time.: _

 

"Was?"

 

Terance blew a short breath out.  _ :He was delusional. He thought the  _ rest  _ of the world had changed, and was out to get him. He was picking up on people's emotions, and saw the fear in their hearts. This made him more frightened, and he'd project fear, until people just  _ lost  _ it. He saw the truth in Yarella's thoughts, at the very end, and tried to suicide by channeling a tremendous amount of node magic through himself.: _

 

"Didn't work?"

 

_ :He destroyed most of his potential. Nevroni -- that's the mindhealer who's been working with him -- thinks that the reason his Healing gift was spared was that he unconsciously protected it. Because that was what was most important to him. At the very last instant, according to Yarella, who was there, he chose to  _ live _ instead. He changed his mind.: _

 

"Poor kid."

 

Terance shook his head.  _ :Maybe. But that 'poor kid' caused the death of a number of people, including a Herald and a Companion.: _

 

"But not his fault, if what you've told me is true."

 

_ :No. Not his fault. And most of us don't hold _ that  _ against him. Though it's hard to like the young man; every time anyone tries to befriend him, he shoves them away. And he's got a terrible temper, which, alas, we're afraid some of the Blues and younger students have been taking advantage of. Which isn't helping the situation. And he's always so sullen.: _

 

"I've heard plenty of the other students say terrible things about him." She said, with a sigh.

 

_ :Yes.:  _ Terance nudged her shoulder.  _ :He could use friends, Erran. But he pushes everyone away who tries. He's  _ so  _ scared of being hurt, or maybe of hurting someone else; we're not sure. But right now, the only person who I'd consider his friend is Leselie.: _

 

_ :Leselie's cute _ . _ :  _ She thought the words, rather than saying it aloud. 

 

_ :I like Leselie. He's got a level head on his shoulders.:  _ Terance' approval was warm. 

 

_ :Yeah, well, just because I like him doesn't mean he'll like me.: _

 

_ :True. But you won't know if you don't ask him. Anyway, you're a Herald. Nobody will say anything if you just bed him. You don't have to  _ marry _ him.: _

 

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. 

 

Terance continued, in practical tones.  _ :Just talk to the healers first, so you can avoid conceiving. They have some herbs you can take, I think. But I can't help you there; I'm a  _ guy _.: _

 

"Terance!" She protested.

 

He sent the mental equivalent of a grin at her, and dodged the swipe she took at his shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

Riding a Companion was unlike riding any horse Leselie had ever sat. And, as the son of a dyed-in-the-wool wanderer, he'd spent far more of his childhood on the back of a horse than he particularly wanted to think about. 

 

Yarella's strides were smoother. There was  _ power _ in her movements that a horse didn't have plus she just didn't get tired. 

 

"Let's try that again. I lost my balance a bit, there at the end." 

 

She nodded, and smoothly cantered to the start of the pattern.  She came to a perfect halt, and waited for his cue. He took a deep breath, and nudged her in the ribs with his calf.  _ Any proper Herald would have just  _ thought  _ what he wanted. But we've got to resort to using cues like a horse and rider. And it's  _ important _ ; if we're fighting something, and I need her to move in a certain way, I need to be able to communicate that to her. By seat and hands and legs, if necessary, but that communication has to be to the point of being instinctive.  _

 

She moved into an easy canter. 

 

"Wrong lead." He hissed at her. 

 

The instructor -- busy with less advanced students -- didn't notice. Yarella swapped leads. She'd been so sore on her right foot for so long that she always picked up her left lead. That was partly habit, and partly lingering after-effects of her crippling leg injuries. She was sound, but her body hadn't forgotten the injuries she'd suffered with or so long. 

 

He sat down, shifted his weight to the inside a bit, and kept his balance neatly as she rounded a pole with inches to spare between it and her shoulder. He cued for a lead change; then with another shift of his weight, asked her to half-pass across the practice arena. On the other side of the arena, there was a water jump. Because she was going directly from cantering at an angle to a long, low, jump it was a fairly difficult obstacle. 

 

She made it over. They bounced through a series of crossrails, cantered a tight circle, and then did a series of serpentines the length of the arena. "Lead!" He hissed at her twice, by way of reminder.

 

The final obstacle was a  _ huge _ jump -- easily head height, and more than any horse could have jumped. He shifted his balance, and let out a yell of glee when she soared over it.

 

"You've got wings, lady!" 

 

She landed, took one stride, and slid to a stop as the pattern required. Then she reared, fighting an imaginary opponent. 

 

Then she halted, and shook her head, and said, *Almost perf-ect.*

 

"We've just got to work on those leads." He was breathing hard, and waited patiently for her response.

 

*Fluffy stuff. I'm perfectly balanced even when I'm on the  _ wrong  _ lead and you know it.*

 

He impulsively leaned over and hugged her neck. 

 

*What was that for?*

  
"Just for being  _ you _ ." 


	5. Chapter Five

Medrid yawned sleepily.  _ I'm never going to get this done tonight. _

 

_ Particularly if I fall asleep at my desk. I'm not even done with the herbals paper and the night's half over. It really is a pain in the rear.  _ Math  _ is  _ not  _ my strong point, and most of this paper is figuring out proportions and percentages and solutions. And then I have that anatomy paper to rewrite ... _

 

He pushed his chair away from his desk, and picked up the candle. 

 

_ I need a cup of hot tea.  _

 

This late, the halls were dark. His skin crawled, as he made his way to the kitchen. He was afraid he'd turn a corner, and see another spirit.  _ They never did figure out what I and that Trainee saw ... a couple different people took a look at my room. They did say that if the ghosts were truly Heralds, we had nothing to fear but on the whole, I think I'd rather not test that statement.  _

 

_ They were more concerned about  _ why  _ the ghosts were here, and who they were, than about any actual threat from them. What did Talia tell me? Something about spirits hanging around for three reasons -- unfinished business, to protect something or someone, or to impart a message.  _

 

Darkly, he mused that if they were here to give him a message and if even ghosts were trying to scare him off because of what he'd done, they'd just have to stand in line behind the rest of the Collegium. However, though his journey to the kitchens took forever because of his short legs, it was uneventful. As he expected, when he arrived in the kitchen even at this late hour, there were a few servants working -- baking things, he thought. 

 

"I just want some tea." He asked. "Please."

 

"S-sure." One of the undercooks said, and then provided him with a mug half full of tea leaves, and a kettle of hot water. She wouldn't meet his eyes and she handed them to him at arm's length, as if he was a serpent who might strike at her.  


 

_ They don't want me coming back any time soon, I see. They gave me enough tea to last a month. _

 

Medrid pinched some of the tea leaves into the hot water in the kettle, and then began the long walk back to his room.  _ I'm  _ so  _ tired. Maybe ... maybe this isn't worth it. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a Healer.  _

 

_ But what else am I going to be? What am I going to do, apprentice myself somewhere? Sheesh, that's a joke. I have  _ no  _ other option than to make this work.  _

 

Back in his room, he set the candle down on the desk and stared glumly at the half-finished herbals paper.   _ This is impossible.  _ How  _ am I going to get this  _ done _and the anatomy paper too_?   


 

Maybe he could fake a dazzle headache to buy himself another day to finish the papers. He'd never done that before, and it felt dishonest and he was loathe to miss a day's classes. Nobody would share their notes with him, and most of his instructors would be reluctant to help him catch up with any missed lessons. He often attended class even when he _was_ half blind with a headache, for those very reasons. However, he just didn't see how he would have the time to do both papers. He was exhausted, too, and just wanted to sleep. 

 

Cold air wafted up his back. His hair stood on end.  _ Oh, damnation. It's back!  _

 

He twisted around in his chair, and sure enough, the ghost was behind him. She leaned against the door, and waggled her fingers at him in a coy wave.

 

He stared, too frightened even to stand up.  _ She's leaning against the door. I can't escape without going  _ through  _ her!   _ The ghost disappeared, as suddenly as she had arrived. In her wake, several pieces of paper drifted to the ground. He could recognize his handwriting from several feet away.  _ That looks like ... _

 

Fear of the ghost was replaced by astonishment. And delight.  _ My paper! My anatomy paper!  _

 

He addressed thin air, "Lady, I  _ thank you _ . I thank you I thank you I thank you!"

 

He snagged the papers off the floor and  _ hugged _ them. He would have hugged the  _ ghost _ if he could have. "My paper!" 

 

_ Oh, I'm even going to get some sleep tonight. All I have to finish is the herbals paper, and then ... at least a few candlemarks of sleep. Oh, joyous day.  _

 

"Thank you!" He shouted again. 

 

"Shut up, Medrid!" Someone responded, from the other side of the wall. Elsan, it sounded like. In a slightly lower tone, but still loud enough for him to hear, the boy added, "Damned hairball ..."

 

Medrid bit his thumb in the boy's general direction. Seemingly in response, there was a horrified scream. He stared at his hand, then suddenly grinned as comprehension dawned.

 

" _ GHOST! _ " Elsan shrieked, " _ Ah! Get away from me! Aaaaaaah!" _

 

Medrid yanked his door open, in time to see the noble boy bolt into the hall and down the stairs. The ghost, in true ghost fashion, floated after him with arms outstretched and Whites billowing in an unseen breeze. She was transparent, just a suggestion of a form. Elsan hit the stairs running and screamed all the way down them. 

 

The ghost stopped, turned to Medrid, lowered her arms, and  _ winked _ . 

 

Several other doors opened. 

 

"What the hell  _ is  _ that!" 

 

"A GHOST!" 

 

"It's in Whites!" 

 

The ghost waggled her fingers in a wave at the spectators, then swept a low stage bow, and disappeared again. 

 

Medrid threw his arms into the air. "See? See? I SAID there was a ghost.  NOW do you believe me?"

 

He returned to his room and shut the door before any of the other students had a chance to respond. 

 

* * *

 

_ :Hey handsome.:  _ Yarella batted her eyes at the young stallion.

 

Terance snorted.  _ :Don't you ever quit?: _

 

_ :Oh, never. Not particularly when there's such a handsome young fellow in front of me.: _

 

Terance's mindvoice held amusement.  _ :Has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely outrageous?: _

 

_ :Why, thank you, gorgeous.: _

 

He padded silently across the grass towards her. He was a tall Companion, and his white hide was covered in fading pink scars. There where whip marks, rope burns around his pasterns and across his chest and neck,  and a ridge of scar tissue across his nose that would never grow hair. One hip was marked with a deeply puckered scar, older than the others.

 

_ :You'd flirt with a  _ horse  _ if it would flirt back.:  _ He shook his head.  _ :You're shameless, Yarella.: _

 

_ :Of course. Shameless wenches have more fun.:  _

 

_ :Mmm. Anyway, we need to talk -- my Chosen seems to  _ like  _ your Chosen.: _

 

_ :Yes. And the feeling's mutual, best as I can tell. Leselie's a good kid.: _

 

_ :As is Erran.:  _ Terance fell silent for a moment, thinking to himself.  _ :They're a good match. Erran  _ needs  _ someone kindhearted; she was married at thirteen to a real bastard.: _

 

_ :Rumor mill has it that he's the one who tried to 'train' you and gave you those scars.: _

 

He nodded.  _ :I still have nightmares about ropes ... but that's in the past, and I got her away from him, and she's here now. _ _.: _

 

Yarella nodded slowly.  _ :Leselie's a good match, then. He's patient and he's incredibly levelheaded. However, there's nothing she could tell him that would shock him, and he won't push her for anything she's not ready to give him.: _

 

_ :Yes. You Chose well, I think.: _

 

_ :So what do we do to get them together?: _

 

She considered the question for a moment.  _ :I'll have a word with Sayvil about seeing Erran and Leselie are made sparring partners on a regular basis.: _

 

 _:And I want Erran to try to make friends with that damned Changechild, too, which means lots of opportunities for her and Leselie to interact.:_ Terrance met her surprised gaze with an even look of his own.  _:He's a good kid.:_

 

Yarella snorted again,  _ :He is. If he'd just  _ relax  _ and stop worrying about us hating him, he'd find people like him much more. But he's convinced he's going to be attacked. Which makes him remarkably hard to like. However, yes, encourage her to befriend Medrid. Medrid could use another friend, and he would indeed be a convenient way for us to get Leselie and Erran together.: _

 

* * *

 

 

"Here. Go shelve these." Seya handed Medrid several small books. 

 

_ Here, go shelve these. Not 'please' and not 'would you ...' She just barks orders at me, like I'm some sort of trained dog. I thought Heralds were supposed to be nice to people.  _

 

_ Ah, well, I earned their hatred.  _

 

He tucked the books under one arm and walked the long distance across the library to the appropriate shelf.  _ I'll be glad when this punishment is over; everybody is staring at me.  _

 

He glowered at 'everybody' as he walked past a table of half a dozen Bardic students. They were, indeed, watching him. 

 

"What are you looking at?" Medrid demanded.

 

"Still trying to decide." One of the students -- a boy in his mid teens -- drawled laconically at Medrid's back as the Changechild kept walking. "But it sure is ugly."

 

They laughed, all of them, at the boy's cleverness.

 

Medrid whirled, "Leave me alone! Why can't you just leave me alone! That's all I want! That's not too much to ask, is it?" 

 

He spun back around and stomped off as fast as his short legs would carry him. Unbidden, angry tears filled his eyes.  _ I am not going to cry. I am  _ NOT  _ going to cry! _

 

The books Seya had given him to shelve belonged at the very back of the library. He reached the shelf, and frowned when he realized that the books belonged on the fifth shelf. He set the books down, pushed a stool over, stood on his tip-toes, and parted the volumes on the shelf to make room with both hands. The fit was tight; he struggled to hold the hole open with one hand, and shelve the books with his other.

 

"Here, let me get that." A friendly voice said. 

 

He jumped, and accidentally dropped a book on his head. 

 

"You okay?" Erran asked, picking the book up and easily shelving it for him.

 

"Fine." He said, warily. 

 

"What were they laughing about?" She casually put the rest of the books on the shelf for him. 

 

"Making fun of me." He said, sullenly. "It's not bad enough that I'm being punished for something I didn't do, but I'm being ridiculed while I do it."

 

She blew out a sharp breath. "Eh. I think whoever it was that said, 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me' was insane. I'd rather be beaten than ... well, you know how some people can be." 

 

_ Do I ever. Gods, she's got the prettiest eyes ...  _ down _ boy. You're a three foot tall monstrous beast. Girls are  _ not  _ in your future! And that's so unfair ... but I can't blame them from loathing me.  _ I  _ loathe what I see in the mirror. Can't exactly expect a girl to be attracted to it, now can I?  _

 

She leaned against the shelf. "Punished for what? And why was Morgan telling you that you were supposed to be staying in your room?"

 

He scowled. "I've got to keep working, or Seya's going to yell at me. She hates me." 

 

"Hates you? I've never known a Herald to hate anybody ..."

 

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm a special case, it seems."

 

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you. Seya's just ... Seya. Her Companion's Terance's brother, so I've met her because of that, and she teaches a couple of my classes and overall, she's more bark than bite. She barks at everybody and bosses everybody around, but that's just the way she is." Erran shrugged, and changed the subject. "Hey, how are you with spelling? I'm trying to learn to read and write in Valdemaran; Terance gave me the language but  _ he  _ isn't all that good with letters." 

 

He shrugged. Actually, he was very good at reading and writing, but he didn't see the point in her line of inquiry.

 

She grinned at him, a conspiratorial grin.  _ What is she going to ... _

 

"Hey! Seya!" Erran stuck her head around the corner of a bookshelf and shouted across the library at the young Herald, "Mind if I borrow Medrid from you for a candlemark or so? I need some tutoring on this blasted assbackward language you folks speak; got the words down but your alphabet is giving me nightmares!" 

 

Her aggrieved tone generated a laugh from one or two people. Seya retorted in the same loud tone, "Mind your library voice, young lady! But yes, be my guest. I'm about out of chores for him anyway."

 

"See?" She returned to Medrid. "That was easy enough."

 

_ Blessed Gods, I'm going to have to  _ talk  _ to her for a candlemark.  _ Medrid said warily, "But why  _ my _ help?"

 

"What, you don't  _ want _ to help me?"

 

_ Not particularly, no. She's probably playing some game; she's one of  _ them _ , and she's probably going to pull something. Watch, she's going to get me into trouble. I  _ know  _ it. _

 

But he found himself saying, "No, no! I can help ..."

 

"Good. Let me go get my assignments from my room ..."

 

She  _ skipped  _ off.  _ Oh, crap. _

 

His stomach crawled with apprehension. Worse, when he stepped out into view, one of the bardic students called out, "Hey, Medrid's got a GIRLFRIEND!" 

 

"She's not my girlfriend!" His cheeks felt warm; had he not been covered in snow white fur, he would have been scarlet with embarrassment.  He muttered, "I don't even know what she wants ..."

 

This provoked several ribald suggestions that made his ears burn as hotly as his cheeks. "Shut up! Shut up! Damn you, shut up!" He screeched at them.

 

Seya sighed loudly. "Medrid, please keep you voice down. Arnie, Haley, Ariana, leave Medrid alone please."

 

The young bards continued to stare at him, however, and make whispered comments behind their hands. By their expressions, and the snickering, he could tell that the speculation was bordering on pornographic. He retreated back into a corner of the library, where he couldn't see or hear them, and pressed his forehead against a shelf. He had a growing headache, and his frustration and anger was threatening to spill over in the form of tears. 

 

_ Maybe I should run off and live in the woods like a beast. Except that sort of life has no meaning. I want  _ meaning _ in my life. And I've  _ got  _ to succeed at this. And it will feel so good someday to thumb my nose at the people who called me beast, when I'm a full Healer ...  _

 

"Hey. You okay?" 

 

Erran was back, with a slate in one hand, a primer under her arm, and a box of chalks in her other hand. She sat down beside him, and gave him a shy smile. "Somebody picking on you?"

 

_ I could look in those eyes forever ... they are the most gorgeous brown ... damnit, Medrid. What are you thinking? _

 

He shook his head. "I should be used to it by now. "

 

She leaned forward and rested a hand on his arm, her fingers sinking into his dense fur to touch the wiry muscles underneath. "Medrid, listen. They're being idiots. Just ignore them. You can't let them get to you, and you can't let them provoke a response out of you."

 

He stared at her hand.  _ She's  _ touching  _ me. Everybody acts like I have fleas at best, or like being a Changechild is contagious. She's  _ touching _ me. Why is she touching me? Nobody touches me! _

 

He looked up at met her eyes. She smiled at him again. "Now, I just  _ cannot  _ figure out how to change the spellings on your verbs when you conjugate them. It's giving me fits, and I swear they're going to make me repeat the class if I don't master this."

 

"Oh ... oh, that's easy." He recited a helpful series of rhymes at her, mnemonic devices to help with tricky spellings. She repeated them back, then applied them to several common verbs as he watched.

 

_ Blessed be, I think she did just want my help. Gods, nobody's wanted my help in ... in years. I used to tutor the younger kids, before ... how did she  _ know  _ I love teaching?  _

 

It took closer to two candlemarks, but he finally pronounced her proficient in the spelling of present-tense verbs, which was what her class was working on. She grinned at him, "That was easier than I thought!" 

 

He shrugged. "Glad I could help."

 

"Hey, by the way, I hear that the ghost returned to you room."

 

"Yeah. She brought me a paper that had ... wandered off." He glanced up at Erran's eyes. There was no guile there at all, so he elaborated. "I think a couple of the Blues had taken it from me, several days ago. She must have found it and brought it back.  _ Why  _ a ghost would do that, I don't know, but I'm not complaining and I'm grateful."

 

"Sounds pretty mundane for a ghost." Erran frowned. 

 

"Who knows ... I'm not complaining, that's for sure."

 

She leaned back against a shelf, stretched her legs out across the stone floor, and regarded him with a faint smile. 

 

"What are you looking at?" He said, instantly suspicious.

 

"Sorry." She sighed. "I'm just thinking that we're both misfits here. I'm from Karse and while I'm certainly not the first Karsi here, it sets me apart. We were at  _ war  _ with you guys until Solaris fixed things here. And you ..."

 

"I'm a short hairy ugly Changechild. That's a bit different from just being a foreigner." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

"Not  _ ugly _ !" She protested. "Short hairy Changechild I'll give you." 

 

Something in her tone made him grin. This bared a very large number of teeth, and generally made people pull back. Instead, she laughed at him. "Toothy, maybe, but you're  cute when you grin."

 

"I look like a weasel mated with an ape and produced a bastard son." He decided, at best, that probably meant cute in the sense of an animal that was so-ugly-it's-cute, and not cute like a girl would describe a young man. He was alert for sarcasm in her voice, or unkind teasing, but so far her words seemed genuine.  


 

"Hmmm. I'd say a wolverine, not a weasel." Her tone was not cruel, and good humor lit her eyes. She was not afraid of him.  


 

"Whatever." He made a dismissive gesture, flapping one hand in the air. But his grin remained. 

 

"Hey, listen. Could you meet me here, at the same time tomorrow? I'm sure I'll be having more fits over my letters. I'm rather stupid when it comes to spelling."

 

_ Probably the wisest thing to do is to say 'no' because the last thing this nice girl needs is to get involved with me. Those bardic students are just a taste of what might happen. But those eyes ... that smile ... I'm being truly selfish, but it feels so  _ good  _ to have someone laugh  _ with  _ me, not  _ at  _ me.  _

 

He found himself nodding, "Sure. I'll be here."


	6. Chapter 6

_ He's so handsome _ . 

 

Erran had hit the floor of the salle for the third time running, and now lay on her back staring up at Leselie.  _ I could lie here all day and drink in that sight. He's built like a young God ... not tall, but so athletic. And those blue eyes and his white hair are just amazing. _

 

"You okay?" Leselie asked, real concern in his voice. He held a hand out, somewhat vaguely -- he'd taken his spectacles off, and without them, he saw well enough to spar but only  _ just _ . He saw moving person-shaped blurs, he'd told her, nothing more.   


 

Gladly, she accepted it, and let him pull her to his feet. "You won again."

 

The weapons master assigned to teach their class had paired them off to practice hand-to-hand moves.  _ And lucky me, I get Leselie.  _

 

Terance' amused mindvoice said, in a suggestion tone,  _ :See something you like, my dear?: _

 

"Don't make me laugh!" She told the voice, then added to Leselie, "Talking to Terance, not you."

 

He snorted, "Figured that out as soon as your eyes went all vague. Ready for another round?"

 

She blew her bangs out of her eyes, dropped into a defensive stance by way of answer. 

 

"Bring your arms up a bit." He advised genially. "And when I grab you, shift your weight like  _ this _ ." He demonstrated with a sway of his hips that made her heart skip a beat.

 

_ He's had six months more training that I have, here, and from what Terance has told me -- gleaned from Yarella, I think -- he's spent his entire life traveling. Some of that was with mercenaries and some of that was with his Shin'a'in cousins. He's clearly had some other training here and there. He's being remarkably patient with me; the only fighting I really know about is between man and wife ... _

 

_ Damn it, I'm not going to think about Nat. Not here. Not in this place. He's out of my life for good ...He'll never touch me again. Hell, he doesn't even know where I  _ am _. Terance will deal with him if he does find me. _

 

"Ready?" He asked.

 

She nodded.  

 

Leselie grabbed her arm. She stepped towards him, and they grappled briefly. Then, to her astonishment, she managed to throw him over her shoulder. He landed halfway out of the ring. She'd won, and it astonished her.

 

Leselie was the son of a mercenary, had a year of formal training at the collegium, and had spent several years working for a theater troupe that included acrobatics and stage fighting in its repertoire. He was a solidly skilled fighter among the trainees, if not a standout, and she'd never put him on the ground before. He blinked up at her, looking as surprised as she felt. She tensed, expecting the young man to be resentful or even angry. However, he sat up, and grinned, and said in a genuinely delighted tone, "Good throw. You're getting better every day."

 

She couldn't help but contrast that with Nat, who would have not reacted well if she'd won a sparring match.

 

_ And if Nat ever does figure out where I am, he's going to have a surprise coming! I'd love to get my hands on him  _ now _.   _ She suspected in a fair match she could beat her husband into the ground. He had been a bully, relying on aggression and strength to ... hurt her. A few months of dedicated training had let her recognize his lack of actual hand to hand skills.   


 

_ :Might I suggest a dull butter knife rather than bare hands?:  _ Terance said, acidly, in her head. He sent an image suggesting flaying the man alive with cutlery. 

 

_ :Oh, no, stallion mine. A  _ red hot  _ dull butter knife: _

 

Leselie bounced back to his feet, still grinning. "Seriously, nice job. Let's do it again ..."

 

_ And Nat would have died of shame if a woman, particularly  _ me _ , threw him like that. Goddess bless, I like this man ... and he's  _ so  _ cute! _

 

* * *

 

 

Medrid was walking back from the mindhealer's quarters when a voice hailed him. "Hey, runt!"

 

_ Leselie. _ Medrid grinned, and turned around. "Hey!"

 

"Haven't seen you around." Leselie ran up, and fell into step beside him, deliberately slowing his stride. He brushed his snow white bangs out of his eyes then said, "You haven't been coming to the hall for meals ..."

 

_ Because I come by after everyone else is gone, and eat the leftovers. Because walking back from the dining hall when everyone else is out and about means I'm likely to run into someone who will pick on me.  _ He shrugged, "Been busy." 

 

"Huh. Well, are you too busy for a game of fifty-card tonight? Just a couple rounds; I've got books to hit yet. Res can't make it, so right now, it's just me, and Yarella, and Erran."

 

_ Erran. _ Unbidden, an image of brown eyes, laughing, filled his mind. 

 

"Erran's really nice, you'll like her ..."

 

"We've already met." Medrid nodded. "And I do like her."

 

_ And she's more than nice, damnit. I  _ hate  _ this body. Once upon a time, I'd have been courting her without any hesitation.  _

 

Leselie brightened considerably. "You've met her? You  _ like  _ her?"

 

"She's nice to me." Medrid shrugged.  

 

"Isn't she wonderful?" Leselie grinned at him. 

 

Medrid eyed Leselie speculatively. "I do believe you're smitten with her, Leselie."

 

"Oh, maybe. She's probably way out of my league, but you can't fault a guy for dreaming." 

 

_ No. You can't. Unless the guy is three feet tall and has more body hair than your average shaggy dog. But Leselie  _ deserves  _ her; he's my only friend here and he's such a good guy. I can't be jealous about this. I have no chance with her anyway, and he  _ deserves  _ someone as beautiful and special as Erran. And Erran deserves someone like Leselie. In short, they deserve each other, and it would be very wrong of me to get in their way. _

 

"Medrid? You okay?"

 

He realized he'd been silent for too long. He smiled brightly, baring all of his teeth. "Oh, sure. I was just thinking that it's ironic. You're handsome, and bright, and get along with everyone, and always know what to say. You're a  _ Herald _ for crying out loud. And you think  _ you're  _ out of her league?"

 

Medrid held his arms out wide, "I hate to think what that means for me."

 

Leselie fell silent. Too silent. Then he said, "Sorry, Medrid. I'm being a bit insensitive, aren't I?"

 

_ Oh, Goddess bless. The last thing I want is  _ Leselie  _ tip-toeing around me.  _ "Nah. I'm fine. Just pointing out that there are far worse things to be than a handsome vagabond from exotic places -- plural -- when it comes to girls."

 

Leselie pulled his spectacles off and ran a hand over his face. He blew out a sharp breath.  "Okay, runt. You're probably right. I'm just used to being an outsider, in places where outsiders were frowned upon. I have to keep telling myself that Valdemar is  _ different. _ "

 

"Not a problem." Medrid assured him. 

 

"So, do you want to play?"

 

_ Between the sessions with that  _ useless _ mindhealer, and working in the library, I hardly have time to study. Plus I'm supposed to be cleaning the washrooms tonight, which means Elsen is sure to leave an extra big mess for me.  _ "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

 

_ Arrgh. I'll  _ never  _ get caught up. I'm risking my dream over a night of cards?  _

 

"Don't worry." Leselie ruffled Medrid's hair casually. Medrid swatted at his hand, and Leselie grinned more broadly. Leselie added, "We're not going to play more than a round or two. You wouldn't  _ believe  _ the amount of studying I have to do ..."

 

* * *

 

 

_ :Ah, yes. Isn't love sweet?:  _ Terance' mindvoice was deeply satisfied. 

 

Yarella glanced at him. He was sprawled on his side in the grass, giving an illusion of being asleep. Erran was using his back to lean against, and her eyes were  _ definitely  _ on Leselie. Leselie was having a hard time keeping his attention on the cards. Since Medrid was terrible at the game, and Erran was as distracted as her Chosen, Yarella's pile of whole walnuts was the largest by far. 

 

_ :Was that a suggestion for after the kids go to bed?:  _ Yarella retorted at him, choosing to deliberately misunderstand what he'd meant. Without any change of expression, she floated a card onto the discard pile, and pulled another.

 

_ :And what makes you think it was?:  _

 

_ :Because I'm beautiful and you're male.:  _

 

He couldn't help it; he snorted a laugh. Erran jumped as her 'sleeping' Companion's ribs shook in amusement. He lifted his head and fixed Yarella with one wide-awake eyeball.  _ :And if I say no?: _

 

_ :I'd kick you from here to the Havens, you lousy beast.: _

 

_ :All the Gods save me from a lady scorned ...: _

 

_ :All the Gods wouldn't be  _ enough.: She assured him. 

 

_ :In that case, wench, it's a date. After the kids go to bed.: _

 

_ :And I'll bet you this pile of walnuts against the apples I know you have in your saddlebags that our Chosen don't go to bed alone.:  _ Yarella said, with supreme satisfaction in her voice. 

 

_ :Now isn't that convenient? And no bet, Erran hates walnuts and you know we can't eat them: _

 

_ :Shame, I always liked the things.:  _ She blew a sharp sigh out, and won the round. 

 

* * *

 

A quarter candlemark later, Leselie stood up and tossed his walnuts on Yarella's pile, ceremonially. "You win again. I've got some studying to do yet, so I'm going to call it a night."

 

Yarella heaved herself to her feet and broadcast into the air, *And Terance and I have a few things to ... do ... together.*

 

_ I'll bet they do.  _ Leselie thought.  _ They've been flirting all evening -- I don't have to be a mindspeaker to follow the looks they've been exchanging. He's been playing hard to get, and she's been herself, which means outrageous. I think he's figured out the best way to get my magic spirit horse's interest is to feign indifference. Smart fellow -- it drives her insane when she's ignored.   _

 

Terance, nostrils flared a bit, popped to his feet right after her. He arched his neck and studied Yarella from beneath the fall of his forelock, eyes very bright in the lantern light.

 

Leselie patted her on the shoulder, "See you in the morning, then."

 

Yarella, tail flagged coyly over her back, departed with Terance following close on her heels.

 

Erran giggled, "You know what they're going to go do, don't you?"

 

"Oh, I'm sure they're  _ just  _ going to go discuss Companion politics and the future of the world all night long."

 

"Of course." Erran agreed. 

 

Leselie offered her a hand up. This brought her to a standing position right in front of him. For a moment, they gazed into each other's eyes -- his pale blue, hers deep brown. Then she, very hesitantly, said, "Maybe they have the right idea."

 

He smiled brightly. "Maybe they do."

 

He kissed her, then. And involuntarily, she stiffened. 

 

"What?" He backed up, and started to release her.  _ What did I do? I thought she was giving off all the right signals; I thought she was  _ interested _! _

 

She tightened her arms around his waist, and held him close to her. "Nothing. Just bad memories, from another life ..."

 

_ Oh. Bad memories, I understand. _

 

"Shh, then. I'm not  _ him _ , whoever he was." He whispered in her ear, just holding her. "I'm just Leselie ..."

 

She kissed him again, without tensing up this time. And whispered, "Thank you ..."

 

Unseen by either of them, Medrid gathered the walnuts up in a fold of his tunic and tiptoed off towards the palace. He was smiling faintly, but sadly.


	7. Chapter 7

The coast was clear when Medrid pushed the door open and entered the hall. There was nobody in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief, and started his laborious climb up to the top floor. He made it up two flights of stairs before footsteps above him forewarned him that someone was descending. 

 

_ Maybe I'll get lucky and it's just one of the Heraldic trainees. At least they usually don't pick on me. _

 

Lady luck, however, was no more his friend than the rest of the world. To his dismay, the boys that appeared were Elsen and Travik.  _ The  _ last  _ two people in the world I want to see! _

 

"Hey, look what the cat barfed up. It's a  _ hairball _ !" Elsen crowed.

 

_ Well, if they're going to be that silly with the insults, maybe this won't be so bad this time. I don't have anything to throw out the window, and calling me a hairball doesn't even  _ hurt _ that much. Leselie calls me worse when he's making me laugh. _

 

Unbidden, he could hear an echo of Erran's words:  _ I'd say wolverine, not weasel.  _

 

"What are you  _ smiling  _ about, hairball?" Travik said, sounding like the fact that Medrid had a faint smile on his face was a personal insult. 

 

"I think he's thinking about his  _ family _ ." Elsen said, maliciously. "Remembering your  _ family _ , Medrid? Your mother, your father, maybe some brothers and sisters?"

 

"Oh, wait, he doesn't  _ have _ any family. Now why's that?"

 

Medrid stopped breathing. There was never a day that went by that he didn’t think about them, and the horrible deaths they’d suffered while caught in the grip of his uncontrolled projective empathy and influenced by the madness, terror and rage that had consumed his awareness. A year of counseling with the healers had not entirely convinced him it wasn’t his fault.    
  
Finally, fighting not to cry in front of them, he hissed through his clenched teeth, "That's not funny."

 

"What are you going to do, blast us?" 

 

Another memory of Erran's voice, sympathetic and annoyed all in one ,surfaced.  _ "Medrid, listen. They're being idiots. Just ignore them. You can't let them get to you, and you can't let them provoke a response out of you." _

 

"Oh, maybe he  _ can't _ blast us!" Travik pretended to shrink back in mock fear.

 

He was somewhat surprised to discover his anger was fading. The boiling rage that should have been there had changed to mere irritation with the duo. Erran would react to them with a roll of her eyes and impatient wave of one hand, and then thought of her reaction settled his own mood. With a huff he said, "Is that the best you've got, Elsen? Because if it is, I'm bored and I'm going now."

 

He tried to brush past them. 

 

Elsen's hand grabbed a fistful of the thick fur on his neck. "And where do you think you're going?"

 

"Hey! Let go!" This was the first time they’d genuinely manhandled him. Before that, the physical contact had been limited to grabbing his belongings away and the occasional shove or elbow in his face.

 

"Little beast." Travik growled. "I don't know about you, Elsen, but I think the world would be a better place without this little murdering monster."

 

"Yeah. I don't know why they  _ ever  _ let him into the Collegium. It's like giving a murderer run of the palace because he said he was  _ sorry _ !"

 

Travik shook Medrid by the scruff of his neck. "Are you sorry for killing all those people, Medrid? Huh?"

 

"Gods,  _ yes _ !" Terror gripped his gut.  _ They're going to hurt me this time! _

 

_ :Somebody help me! Please somebody help me! HELP ME!:  _ With what was left of his talent he screamed to the heavens for help. His head exploded with pain, but his terror was worse than the agony. Now he could sense their intent to do him real harm. He didn’t want to die ...

 

And ... somebody answered.

 

There was a bright flash of light and a waft of cold air. Both boys hit the wall with enough force to dent the plaster. Medrid, untouched by the force, nonetheless staggered when Travik's hand unexpectedly vanished from his neck and he dropped to the ground. He nearly tumbled down the stairs, and an  _ icy _ hand steadied him. 

 

Travik groaned. Elsen was out cold. Medrid gaped at them.  _ I didn't do that. I know I didn't. I can't! _

 

Hot on the heels of that was the thought,  _ But they'll think I  _ did _! _

 

_ Cold hand. Oh, damn. _

 

He turned slowly, and found he was staring at the belt of a set of antique Whites. The Whites were translucent; he could see the wall right through them. He looked up -- way up, because the ghost was two steps above him on the stairs -- and froze.

 

The ghost lifted an eyebrow at him.  _ :Please don't scream. It's disturbing.:  _

 

He bit back the yelp of terror that had been swelling in his chest.  _ She's talking in my head, I don't want  _ anyone  _ in there but  _ me! 

 

She folded her arms and jerked her chin at the two boys.  _ :I had to intervene. They were seriously thinking of chucking you right out the window like they did that book. Elsen was thinking they'd just say it was a suicide. Charming boys.: _

 

He swallowed hard. _ And nobody would have questioned it, either. And she probably has to use mindspeech; I imagine speaking aloud takes working lungs and vocal cords.  _ "Thank ... thank you."

 

The ghost shrugged. 

 

"You're a ... a spirit, aren't you?"

 

_ :For now.:  _ She said, cryptically.  _ :I rather fucked up and the Shadow Lover said I had to fix it before he let me move on.: _

 

"What's going on here?" 

 

It was Morgan, summoned by the crash. Several students were close on his heels. He stopped short and stared at the ghost. She waggled her fingers in greeting. 

 

Medrid folded his arms and said, "See, I  _ told  _ you there was a ghost!" 

 

"So I see." Morgan said. He was tense, but not terrified. However, several students screamed. One or two bolted; the rest continued to stare. One boy had a poker in his hand. 

 

Medrid eyed the poker with macabre amusement.  _ What's he going to do, run the ghost through?  _

 

_ :Hi Morgan. You're usually much more articulate than that.: _

 

"What ... what did you  _ do _ ?" Morgan couldn't decide if he wanted to stare at Medrid or the ghost, his eyes kept flicking between him and her. 

 

The ghost responded with a shrug.  _ :These little vermin were considering  _ killing _ the kid here, out of some misguided sense of 'justice.':   _

 

The scorn in her mindvoice was rank and thick. Acidly, she added,  _ :Some people need to get their heads out of their asses, and I'm not talking about these boys here. You've got a  _ brilliant _ young man here, who just wants to be a Healer so he can make amends. He's got a good heart and soul.: _

 

Someone -- Medrid wasn't sure who, among the students -- objected. "He  _ killed  _ a Herald and a Companion."

 

The ghost shook her head.  _ :No. He didn't.: _

 

"Yes, I did, unfortunately." Medrid protested, moved to honesty. Despite the pain it cost him to mindspeak, he added to the ghost, :O _ ne thing I won't do is deny responsibility for my crimes. That damned mindhealer's beaten that one into my thick skull often enough ... denying the mistakes I've made doesn't help  _ anything _.: _

 

_ :No, you didn't.:  _ She folded her arms.  _ :Kisa and Mikael weren't dead when you left.: _

 

"But ..."

 

She cut him off, impatiently.  _ :You know what I told the Shadow Lover when he said I'd fucked up? 'But that's not fair!' :  _ She continued with thick irony in her voice,  _ :You know what he said? 'Life's not fair.'  _ Life isn't  _ fair _ ,  _ Medrid _ .  _ And sometimes we just have to deal with the hand life deals us, rather than giving up.: _

 

He wasn't sure if she was talking about him, or herself. By her tone of mindvoice, it could have been either, or both. 

 

She speared her index finger in Morgan's direction, causing him to flinch back.  _ :And you. I mean it. You're a Herald. So's that overgrown brat down in the Library who dares to wear Whites. You've been screwing up here. You better see that this kid is looked out for, or I'll haunt you until the day you die. That's a promise.: _

 

"I ..." Medrid started to protest,  _ I'm fine, I don't need looking out for. _

 

She turned to him and snapped,  _ :And you. Stick up for yourself a bit. You look enough like a rug without letting everyone walk all over you.: _

 

He  _ laughed,  _ as she disappeared.  

 

Morgan shook his head, "Okay, that was bizarre."

 

"Did ... did they really try to kill you, Medrid?" One of the students -- he didn't even know the girl's name -- asked with horror in her voice. 

 

"I didn't ... I didn't think they'd really do it."

 

Morgan let out a long, slow, sigh. "This is  _ really  _ going to be a mess to sort out."

 

* * * * *

 

_ There was an arm holding her. _

 

_ Nat had found her!  _

 

Erran was halfway across the room before she realized she was in her own quarters. Confused, she thought,  _ Nat's in my room! _

 

 _:I'll KILL him!:_ Terance's response was tinged with rage. _:How in the hells of all the Gods_ _did he find you! I'm not just going to kill him, I'm going to_ pulverize _him like I should have done in the first place. He'll be nothing but bloody_ pulp _when I'm done!:_

 

"Erran?" Leselie's voice came from beneath her covers. He pushed the blankets back, and squinted at her in confusion then he groped, one-handed, for his spectacles on the table beside her bed. "What happened?"

 

_ :Sorry, Terance. I thought ... Leselie's in my bed.: _

 

_ :Oh, good.:  _ Terance sent her an image of a sliding stop; he'd been in full charge for her room. _ :I'd rather hoped that would happen, but I was shielding you out last night, so I wasn't sure.: _

 

_ :And why were you shielding me out?: _

 

_ :For the same reason you were shielding  _ me  _ out last night.: _

 

His teasing tone was enough to make her smile, but her heart was still pounding. "Sorry, Leselie. Bad memories. I thought ... I woke and you were in my bed, but I wasn't quite awake, and I thought ... I thought ..."

 

"Some bastard from your past was in bed with you?" He guessed, and sat up. "C'mere." 

 

She returned to the bed, and curled up against him. His arms folded around her, and he pulled her down next to him. Conversationally, he said, "You had a couple nightmares last night."

 

"Did I?"

 

"Yeah. You kept calling out Medrid's name. Do you remember what that was about?"

 

She shook her head. "I don't."

 

"Mmm. Much as I like the little runt, he even gives  _ me  _ nightmares sometimes." Leselie sighed. 

 

"Why's that?"

 

"Not nightmares about him, but nightmares  _ for  _ him. He's sort've like he little brother I never had and always wanted, you know? And I'm so scared that I made a wrong decision to bring him here. He's so unhappy most of the time. I tried to leave him with the Tayledras, but he didn't want to part company with me. And truth to tell, it wasn't a good place for him _. _ "

 

"Why not? What little I've heard about the Hawkbrothers makes me think that would be a much better place for him to be."

 

Leselie shook his head. "He hurt himself -- I'm sure you've heard his story, right?"

 

She nodded. 

 

"Magic hurts him, now. Particularly node magic, which is rampant in Vales. It has to do with the way his channels were first blown open and then burnt out. He's super sensitive to it, and every time the Tayledras pulled anything significant from their Heartstone, he'd pick up the leakage and be sick in bed for days."

 

"Oh. Poor Medrid." 

 

"Yeah. It took us awhile to figure out what was going on." Leselie sighed, "Anyway, sometimes in the wee hours of the night, I lay awake wondering if bringing him here was the best course of action. There are other places I could have taken him ... but he's my friend, and he would have been all alone if I'd left him somewhere else."

 

Erran nodded. "There's something there, I can't define it, but when I talk to him, it's like I've known him all my life."

 

Leselie snorted. "Nothing so grand here, I'm afraid. But he laughs at my jokes and he's good company."

 

“I can see that. I really enjoy spending time with him too.” 

 

He changed the subject as he ran a gentle hand down her side, "You've beautiful, did you know that?"

 

She rolled towards him, smiling. "And  _ you _ are one of the most handsome men I've ever seen. And I've got you all to myself ..."

 

A stab of  _ guilt _ hit her. And she froze reflexively.

 

"You okay?" Leselie said, lifting his head to look at her.

 

_ Guilt. Whatever for? I feel like I'm cheating on someone ... Nat. Am I  _ never  _ going to be rid of that ... that ... _

 

_ :Bastard offspring of a buzzard and his dinner?:  _ Terance suggested helpfully. 

  
_ :That's just gross. Get out of my head, horse.:  _ She told him amiably, and threw her shields up.  "I'm just fine." She said, and then set about proving it to Leselie, and herself too


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey, I'm supposed to meet with Medrid this evening. He's tutoring me on spelling. Want to come?" Erran asked, as she strolled beside Leselie towards the practice arena and salle. 

 

Leselie made a rude noise. "I speak about a dozen languages fluently, Erran. I  _ write  _ well in none of them."

 

"Well, you could join us for the help ..." she offered, uncertainly. Nat would not have liked it if she'd implied he couldn't do something with the brilliance of a genius.  


 

He shook his head and, reassured, she relaxed. Leselie wasn't like Nat, but it was hard to shake the past. With an easy grin that endeared him to her all that much more, he said, "That's a class I'm happy to flunk and the powers that be will just have to deal with it. I'm no writer, and I’m content to accept that. Besides," He indicated his spectacles,  "These things are okay for distance viewing but everything's still fuzzy at reading distance." 

 

"Oh." She hesitated, still uneasy about his reaction to her spending time alone with another man. How many times had Nat flipped from pleasant to enraged in a single heartbeat with far less provocation than this? Sometimes, she had not even known what had set him off. Would Leselie resent the time she was spending with Medrid, or be angry that she was more interested in her writing lessons than he was? The last thing she wanted was to make this wonderful, handsome young man jealous ... in a situation like this, Nat might have pretended to give her permission only to punish her later because she had failed a "test" of her loyalty. Nat had expected her to turn down opportunities to socialize with others if he was not involved, of her own volition, because he said she shouldn't _want_ to be with friends when he wasn't there.  


 

_ :He's not Nat, sweetling.:  _ Terance said,  _ :Unless I read him very wrong, he's just fine with you having a life of your own.: _

 

"Okay, uh ... see you tonight?" She said very nervously. Surely, that was a safe response? Especially if she added, “Maybe  _ later  _ tonight, too, uh, I had fun last night.” 

 

And that was true enough. He was a kind and considerate lover.

 

His eyes lit up at the implications. "Sure! I can’t wait. I’m going to be distracted all day and it’s all your fault ... anyway, say hello to Medrid for me, will you?"

 

She nodded. "You did hear about the ghost, didn't you?"

 

There was something -- amusement, she thought, and nothing malicious -- lurking in the back of Leselie's eyes. But he merely pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and said, "I've run across a few spirits in my life. Nosy folk, and quite opinionated, but mostly well intentioned."

 

She snorted. "I wish I had your calm about the idea."

 

He shrugged. "What are they going to do -- think evil thoughts at me?"

 

"The ghost threw Elsan and Travik into a wall so hard that Elsan's arm was broken and Travik had a concussion." Erran said, with a shiver.

 

"Eh. And the rumor I heard was that they were threatening to kill Medrid when it happened, so they rather had it coming. _ I _ would have broken a few arms if I'd known. And I don't care if the two are nobleborn!"

 

She was surprised by the cold anger in Leselie's voice. Not the sentiment, no, but the expression of it. Leselie normally kept such an even keel that the fury in his voice was startling and a bit frightening. What if he turned that anger on her?

 

_ :Righteous rage, dear. Not crude anger. There is a difference. Note that he's  _ not  _ out of control, like a certain dung-eating beetle we both know.: _

 

She felt herself relax at Terance' soothing words, when she hadn't even realized that she'd tensed up.  _ :Love you, hayburner.: _

 

_ :Mmhmmm: _

 

She smiled, then realized that Leselie was waiting for her to respond. She made a loose gesture at her head. "Talking to my Companion. Apparently Terance and I have a fairly close bond, by the standards of these things. I never know  _ when  _ he's going to say something. He's usually right, too."

 

Leselie nodded understanding. "Sometimes I wish I could hear Yarella. Then I think of what an opinionated, annoying, arrogant  _ wench  _ she is ..."

 

He was looking over her shoulder as he spoke, and pitching his words to be heard at a distance. She turned, and grinned when she saw that his Companion was walking across the grass towards them.  She greeted the small mare, "Hello, Yarella!"

 

Yarella nodded greeting and threw up words for them to read.  *Ready for equit-ation, oh un-grate-ful man?*

 

Yarella was already tacked up. Erran watched Leselie make a quick and efficient check of her girth and bridle, then swing up into the saddle. The maneuver made the material of his trousers stretch taut. She couldn't help but notice,  _ Damn, that man has the most gorgeous butt ... _

 

_ :Doesn't he?:  _ A sly voice said in her head. It definitely wasn't Terance. She "heard" Terance laugh, but he sounded a bit scandalized as he did.  


 

_ Teach me to leave my shields down.  _ She choked back a laugh. _ :Isn't he the wrong species, Yarella?: _

 

_ :Hey, I'm a magical horse. I'm not blind. And yes, please remember to shield. You're loud when you forget, kiddo.: _ As Yarella walked past, the mare winked at her, taking the mild sting out of her words.  


 

* * *

  
  


Medrid wouldn't meet her eyes; the Changechild sat stiffly, staring at the book in his lap. Occasionally, he'd glance up, then hastily look away from her, while she worked on an assignment he'd given her. He was a good teacher, she'd discovered, and she was making rapid headway with his private tutoring. Still, he remained oddly wary and deferential around her.  


 

_ Poor man ... it's not like I'm any raving beauty, but I'd hazard a guess that he hasn't had much in the way of female attention in the last few years.  _ The thought made her unaccountably  _ angry _ .  _ Talking to Medrid is almost like talking to Terance. It's like I've known him my whole life. I don't understand it. I wonder if  _ he  _ senses it?   _

 

_ He needs to feel useful. He needs to be accepted, to just be one among many students. He needs to be trusted, and he needs to learn to trust again. Goddess bless, I've got to help him. I don't know why, but I do.  _

 

"Okay, I think I've got it ..." Erran showed him a slate of verbs conjugated into the present progressive. 

 

He studied them for a moment before looking up. He flashed her a brilliant smile, clearly pleased by her progress, then just as quickly averted his gaze. "Yep, you sure do."

 

"Thanks for all the help with this." Erran said. She wanted to see that smile again. "I really do need it."

 

Medrid shrugged, still staring down at his hands. "I miss this sort of thing. I wanted to be a teacher, you know, before ... my Da wanted me to be a farmer like him, but I was always really good at my lessons and I tutored the younger students for spending money sometimes."

 

He trailed off, and blew out a sharp breath. His gaze went distant. She thought he might be thinking about his family, and people in his past. Then he looked sideways at her, gazing at her from beneath his mop of white hair. "Have you had any more visits from the haunts?"

 

"No, but the story of your rescue last night is all over the Collegium. Several versions. Terance gave me one he got from Morgan's Companion, so I think that one was accurate. You should know that there's one story going around, though, that has you summoning the dead yourself." 

 

"I don't doubt it." Medrid ran a hand over his face. "They put a truth spell on the boys. The ghost was right; they were planning on throwing me out the window."

 

"That could have  _ killed  _ you."

 

He made a humorless noise that might have been a laugh. "They genuinely believed the world would be better off without me, and that I wasn’t really human and everyone would be happy to see me gone."

 

She sighed. "What's going to happen to them?"

 

"They didn't actually commit a crime, because the spirit stopped from doing so. At least, they didn't commit a crime when they were thinking about tossing me out the window. Talia asked them about the book, and my anatomy paper, and they admitted to everything with a little help from a Herald." He sighed. "They're responsible for restitution on the book -- it's actually an offense against the Crown to deliberately damage one like that -- and I'm off the hook for turning the paper in late. Talia says they'll be allowed to stay if they complete what she calls 'constructive punishment' -- they're being assigned to work for the healers for the foreseeable future, which means they'll be working with me, and I've agreed to supervised interaction with them under the oversight of a mind healer I actually trust. The goal is to help them build empathy and understanding."

 

Before she could express her thoughts on the matter -- she was inclined to think they needed more traditional punishment, like perhaps some time in an unpleasant dungeon -- he continued, "Talia says this is the best option for everyone because if they just expel them they may not actually learn anything that will induce them to change, and they will just continue to hurt people."  


 

"Happy ending, then." She shook her head. Her words were mildly sarcastic. She wasn't sure she could be as forgiving as Medrid apparently was. He was, she thought, an absolutely remarkable man. And did Valdemar even have a properly damp and rat-infested cell to throw their criminals in? She changed the subject, "Any idea what the ghost wants?"

 

"I don't know. We don't even know who she is; all we know is that her uniform is at least a century old, by the design." Medrid blew out a long, slow breath. "What has all the Heraldic higher-ups confused is that she said she messed up and that Lady Death -- or Shadow Lover, she said, but same thing -- wouldn't let her pass on until she made amends. That seems in keeping with Heraldic lore when it comes to haunts, and their motivations, but if she's a century old, why is she waiting until  _ now  _ to appear?"

 

"And what does that have to do with you?" Erran frowned at him. She was amazed he could discuss the spirit so calmly and analytically. He was, she thought, born to be a scholar.  


 

"I dunno."

 

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't think the ghost in my room was that old. His uniform looks just like what we're wearing now." She frowned in thought. "Maybe they're from two different times?"

 

"A clue, maybe." Medrid's eyes lit up. "I wish we could talk to the second haunt; maybe his arrival somehow convinced the first to start taking action ..."  


 

Erran tapped her fingers on her slate for a moment. "I wonder if there's a spell we could use to summon ghosts?"

 

"Magic, you mean?" Medrid said. He shook his head in a quick negative. "Neither of us is a mage, though."

 

Erran snorted, "Yeah, and I don't know of any mages who might be willing to help."

 

"Yarella, maybe." Medrid suggested tentatively. "She's a mage." 

 

"She is?" She said, in surprise. It seemed like a strange concept for a horse to be a mage.

 

_ :We are not horses.:  _ Terance sniffed in the back of her head.

 

_ :Have a nice nap?:  _ He'd been sleeping. His mental voice was a little groggy, but indignant all the same.

 

In answer to her question, Medrid said slowly, "Yes, she is, and I've personally seen her do magic a few times. She claims she's not all that powerful, but maybe she might have some ideas ..."  


 

_ :Would you ask her, dear?:  _ She asked Terance.

 

_ :This is not a good idea.:  _ Terance said, declining her request. He added, in apparent irritation,  _ :Let the children know about fire, and they'd burn down the world ... I  _ miss  _ not having to worry about little hands playing with that which they didn't understand.: _

 

 _:That dangerous?:_ She winced at his disapproval.

 

_ :Yes. Very dangerous magic. And unnecessary. We Companions have discussed it and the conclusion is that we have bigger things to worry about than a pair of Heraldic ghosts. If they need our help, they'll ask.: _

 

_ :If they can.:  
_

 

_ :They can ask us with plain speech and ordinary words, if they need help. They're here for personal reasons, and not because they need to warn us about any great threat to our world.:  _ He assured her.  _ :Anyway, Yarella would be about equal to a mid-level journeyman. Summoning ghosts is far beyond the scope of her abilities: _

 

"Terance seems to think that summoning the ghosts is a bad idea and that Yarella doesn't have the skills to it."  


 

_ :And calling us is also unnecessary. Boo.:  _

 

The woman was there, barely perceptible as a faint outline visible against the books.

 

Erran squawked in surprise. Medrid stared at her, then slowly set down the chalk he'd been holding and put his slate on the table. He was the first to speak and he simply said, "Hello." 

 

_ :Don't worry, Medrid. We're around if any of you need us.:  _ The ghost assured him.  _ :Which, incidentally, is now ...: _

 

At that instant, Seya, the librarian, let out an inarticulate cry of horror. The Herald was several shelves of books away; she screamed again, this time one word, her Companion’s name, in a tone of absolute horror. "FYFLE!"

 

In Erran's head, Terrance swore an angry oath,  _ :Damnation of the Gods. Somebody just shot my brother with an arrow in the Field itself!: _

 

"Fyfle, NO!" Seya bolted for the door, eyes wild. 

 

"Fyfle's Terance' brother." Erran explained tp Medrid, then ran after the woman.

 

_ :TAKE MEDRID!:  _ The ghost shouted in mindspeech. 

 

Erran skidded to a halt. Medrid caught up to her and reached his long arms up to her. Without really thinking about it, she hoisted the short-legged Changechild to her back and ran after Seya with Medrid piggyback. Seya, unburdened, made better time and soon outdistanced them.

 

_ :Where?:  _

 

_ :Almost to the wall. Oh, Havens, Erran. It's bad, it's bad!: _ There was raw knowledge there, and overlaying the words, images of other injuries to other Companions. 

 

_ :Where's the archer?: _

 

_ :The arrows came over the wall. We don't know, we don't know ...: _

 

_ :Over the wall? Were they actually targeted?:  _

 

Getting coherent information out of Terance was difficult at best; his mind was a jumble of grief and horror and boiling rage.  _ :Considering he was struck about four times, yes! ... I don't get it, he's never even been out on Circuit. Why would anybody target Fyfle?: _

 

She burst out into the night air and began the run across the grounds to the far corner of the Companion's Field were Fyfle had been struck down.  _ :Fetched, you think?:   _ She asked, meaning the arrows. She knew someone who could Fetch with that accuracy, and the possibility made her veins turn to ice. But why would he target Fyfle rather than the “Demon horse,” Terance, who had stolen her away from him?

 

That thought took Terance aback. She felt him withdraw from her mind for a moment. When he returned, there was cold anger there.  _ :I hope you're wrong, Erran. Or so help me, I  _ will  _ kill the bastard.: _

 

_ :But why shoot Fyfle?:  _ She repeated the thought.

 

He didn't answer. He just bawled,  _ :It's bad, Erran. It's bad, it's bad, it's bad ...: _

 

_ :Make sure the Healers are on the way.: _

 

_ :They are, they are. I told Katara ... she's closest ...: _

 

_ :I'm bringing Medrid.: _

 

_ :What can he do?:  _ In his agitation, Terance didn't bother to hide his skepticism from her. He tolerated Medrid, but he had no love for the Changechild. 

 

 _:He_ is _a Healer.:_  She snapped back, and then just focused on running as fast as she could.

 

* * *

__

 

_ This is humiliating. She's toting me along like a sack of potatoes. What can  _ I  _ do that the palace Healers can't?  _ Medrid clung to her shoulders, and tried not to feel too humiliated. This was an efficient way to get him there, but he was skeptical that he could help. 

 

Erran ran silently, arms supporting his legs. He knew he didn't weigh much, but he rather thought that it was adrenaline that was keeping her going, more than anything else. He could hear her panting as she ran, headlong, for the field.  _ :Terance says it's bad.:  _ She mindspoke him, saving her breath for running.

 

Medrid recoiled, every muscle going tense.  _ Pain!  _ He thought.  _ Don't touch my mind! _

 

It was a reflexive response, but the strength of it made her stumble. She recovered, and started to shout an apology, "Sorry Medrid, I didn't think ..."

 

Cautiously, he responded,  _ :That didn't hurt. I just expected it to.: _

 

She thundered across the bridge, feet pounding on the boards. She made no further comment, just  _ ran _ , chasing after Seya's back, a dozen horse lengths again.

 

Fyfle had been shot in a small clearing very close to the city wall. Katara was already there, and tranced, blood to her elbows as she tried to staunch a horrific amount of bleeding. Her face was pale, and her eyes vacant as she stared into space.

 

"FYFLE!" Seya screamed, and launched herself at his prone form. He acknowledged her presence by attempting to lift his head up, but he didn't have the strength. In response to something he said, she howled, "No, you're not! You're not! You're not dying!" 

 

Not one arrow, but rather several, had struck the young stallion. He lay on his side, breathing ragged. There were bloody bubbles coming from his mouth, and a steady stream of blood pouring from his nose. And at least three of the arrows had struck vital points -- Katara was working on one that had buried itself deep into his chest and throbbed with a rapid beat in time to his heart, but another had speared his throat. This was the source of most of the blood; it  _ poured  _ out. A third was buried to the feathers in his gut. One more was buried in the end of his nose -- a painful wound, but not an immediately critical one. Somehow, she knew without asking that the arrow to his nose had been the first shot. 

  
  


_ Katara's not going to be able to fix all that.  _

 

_ I can help.  _

 

The instant Erran let him down off her back, Medrid bolted for the fallen Companion as fast as he could on all four limbs, dignity be damned. "Get her out of the way!" He pointed a finger at Seya who was sobbing incoherently at Fyfle's head.  

 

Erran bodily wrestled the older Herald away from her fallen Companion, wrapped her arms around her, and let her scream her grief into her greys. "Fyfle! Fyfle, no!"

 

Medrid, after a quick glance to verify all the blood on her Whites came from her Companion, ignored her. He dropped to his knees beside the throat wound, put both hands on it, and  _ focused _ . He tranced quickly, and drew on what he'd learned in the classes to examine the situation. 

 

The arrow wound that Katara was working on was the most severe; the arrowhead had nicked the heart muscle and the sack around the heart was filling with blood. She was simultaneously trying to stop the bleeding  _ there,  _ and trying to staunch the blood from his damaged jugular. She didn't have the power to do both simultaneously with any degree or speed or skill. Either was going to kill in mere moments. The gut wound was bad, but that could wait.    
  
He said decisively,  _ :You take the heart, I'll stop the bleeding up here.: _

 

_ :Medrid?:  _ Katara said, in shock, half rousing from her healing trance.

 

_ :Focus on  _ him, not  _ me.:  _ He said, rudely. And blocked her out. _ That arrow's got to come out before I can heal him ... _

 

Still tranced, he demanded without thinking,  _ :Erran, a hand here. Can you pull this arrow out? I haven't got the strength.: _

 

He sensed, rather than saw, Erran shoving Seya into someone else's arms. She reached around him and pulled on the shaft of the arrow. It didn't budge; it had lodged deep into the muscle. 

 

With a muttered oath, she planted a foot on Fyfle's neck and pulled harder. The arrow finally came, tearing flesh as it did, but he could  _ fix  _ the damage now that the arrowhead was out of the way.

 

He thought to himself,  _ Okay, runt. First, stop the bleeding ... _

 

He could feel the wound, could feel the life leaking out of Fyfle as he worked. The young stallion was no longer conscious; he could feel his heart racing as the injuries began to take their toll.  _ Heartbeat's starting to get irregular. We're running out of time here ... _

 

_ I can't panic. I've got to concentrate. Work fast, but work efficiently ...  _ He knitted the torn jugular together, and the blood loss decreased to a fraction of what it had been. He was still bleeding, though ...  _ Carotid's cut as well, just not as badly.  _ He fixed  _ that,  _ feeling the tougher artery grow back together under his hands.  He was working on knitting severed nerves and mangled flesh when a pair of strange hands closed over his.

 

_ Power _ flowed from the hands. He grabbed it, used it instinctively, speeding the repairs to Fyfle's body. Katara had the chest wound well in hand, so he turned his attention to the gut wound. "Pull the arrow out." He requested, in a sharp bark.

 

Someone -- not Erran -- complied. 

 

_ :Make sure you handle any incipient infection.:  _ A vaguely familiar voice said in his head. 

 

_ :I  _ know  _ that ...:  _ He retorted. He guided torn intestines and a punctured spleen back together, mended several more severed arteries, then the abdominal muscles, and finally skin. Once this was accomplished, he turned the body's own defenses towards cleaning up the threat of infection, as he'd learned in class a few weeks before.

 

His head was  _ pounding  _ when he sat back on his heels and regarded the audience with eyes gone narrow with pain. "Katara's about done. I think he'll live."

 

"Good job, runt." Leselie said approvingly, into the silence that followed his statement. 

 

Time had passed, he realized ... it had been just after dusk when Fyfle had been shot, but a half-moon was high in the sky now. Almost midnight. Leselie asked, "Head hurt?"

 

Medrid nodded.  His head was  _ pounding _ ; he'd pushed himself far harder than he'd ever had to do in class. 

 

Leselie blandly handed him a mug. Oddly, the Trainee's eyes were fixed on a point over Leselie's head. Leselie shrugged that off, sniffed it, and recognized the odor of Tayledras pain-killing herbs steeped into a tea. Leselie had another mug, presumably for Katara when she was finished. 

 

There were half a dozen Collegium healers there, watching him with wide eyes. The only sound was Seya's sniffles. They were not looking at him, which was something he was not used to. Their eyes were all focused on a point above his head. Baffled, he turned around to see what they were looking at. The owner of the hands that had helped him waved cheerfully.  _ :It wasn't his time to join us yet. I thought I'd lend you a hand; you were doing quite well but you were wearing yourself out.:  _

 

It was the other ghost ... Medrid couldn't make his face out; his facial features were indistinct. But he was wearing modern whites, and  _ those  _ were bright enough. He had apparently been a fairly large man, wide through the shoulders, narrow through the hips. His hair was a wild tangle of white, and while his facial features were impossible to distinguish his eyes were an ethereal blue.

 

Medrid lifted a fuzzy  eyebrow slowly at the ghost. He wanted to run and scream. He didn’t. Instead, he said in a voice so calm it shocked even himself, "Well, hello. I thought those hands were rather cold." He sipped at his mug of tea. The voice had seemed  _ familiar _ , but he couldn't place it.

 

The ghost  _ laughed _ , warm mental laughter for his ears alone.  _ :Good job tonight, Medrid.:  _ He disappeared then, in a showy twinkling of light. 

 

Katara finished, and said in an exhausted tone of voice, "Who was boosting us?" 

 

_ Several  _ voices jumped in, explaining what they'd seen. Apparently the ghost had appeared, and stood over the two of them for a very long moment. When the other Healers had arrived, he'd warned them off with an upraised hand. He'd knelt to help, and had fed them both power. 

 

Leselie regarded Medrid with a frown. "Other people," he said slowly, "Just  _ claim  _ to be haunted by their past.  _ You,  _ get the literal thing. You've got the worst luck, runt."

 

Medrid bristled, "What do you mean?"

 

Katara ignored that. "Seya, quit sniffling. Fyfle’s going to be fine."

 

The young Herald took that as a cue, somehow, to pull free from the people holding her. She squeezed in between Medrid and Katara and prostrated herself across Fyfle's body, sobs increasing in volume. She  _ bawled _ , "Thank you. Thank you two so much!"

 

"Eh. Thank the spirit too." Katara accepted a mug of pain-killing tea from Leselie and addressed the rest of the crowd, "So did they catch the archer or are we  _ all  _ sitting ducks out here?"

 

"Most of the Collegium's out hunting him." Leselie said. "And they have been for the last couple of candlemarks. Haven't heard anything yet."


	9. Chapter 9

_ :Terance? You awake?: _

 

_ :Yes.: _

 

_ :Those arrows had to have been Fetched.:  _ Erran said, pacing her room restlessly. It was a few hours to dawn, but she had been unable to sleep and had finally given up.  _ :I don't see how they could have hit him, otherwise, like that. And with that much force ...: _

 

_ :I agree.:  _ Terance' mindvoice was tinged with both worry and concern.  _ :But why Fyfle? Why not me?: _

 

_ :Looked in a mirror lately, hayburner?: _

 

_ :Mmm. That's true.:  _ To an untrained eye, all Companions looked alike. To an experienced horseman, though, there was a wide degree of difference between individuals. Just like people, Companions came short, tall, broad, narrow, and all shapes in between. But both Terance and his brother were the same height; both were unusually tall and lean. 

 

_ :And you both have scars on your faces. Fyfle's is vertical, yours is  _ across  _ your nose, but close enough.: _

 

_ :I hope you're wrong, Erran.:  _ Terance said slowly.  _ :If you're not, I'm going to kill that shit-eating dog like I should have a few months ago.: _

 

_ :I'm afraid we're not wrong. I  _ know  _ Nat can Fetch an arrow; I've seen him do it. He's also got Farsight, so he could be anywhere in the city. And he's the only one I can think of who would have motivation to kill you -- or your brother, by accident.: _

 

_ :Damn. I'm afraid you're right.: _

 

_ :We need to tell someone.: _

 

_ :I'll tell Gwena.:  _ Terance said, and withdrew from her mind. 

 

Guilt struck at her.  _ Aw, shit. Shit, shit. This is my fault ... I never should have come here. I was delusional when I thought that bastard wouldn't find me. I mean, I rode off on a blue-eyed white Demon Horse in the direction of Valdemar. That's a rather large clue about my destination.  _

 

_ I'd just hoped that Nat wouldn't dare  _ come  _ here.  _

 

_ If Fyfle doesn't make it, I'll never be able to live with myself. Poor Seya ... she's not  _ any  _ part of this, and here I am getting her Companion nearly killed. I know how I'd feel if something happened to Terance. He and I are two halves of a whole ... and Seya nearly  _ lost  _ half  _ her  _ soul because of me.  _

 

There was a tentative knock at her door, startling her. Erran's heart began to pound.  _ What if that's him? _

 

"Erran?" 

 

Oh. Medrid. She wrapped her robe around her and walked to the door, unlatched it, and opened it. "Heyla, Medrid."

 

"I couldn't sleep. Nightmares." He said, paused, then added, "And I saw the light under your door. I figured you were up. Figured maybe you couldn't sleep like me."

 

She pushed the door open, inviting him to enter.  _ I'm glad for the company, truth to tell. With Nat almost certainly out there, it's good to have friends on my side. _ He hesitated for a moment, then entered, with a wary glance up at her face.  _ Hell. He's so afraid that people are going to hurt him, it must have taken an enormous amount of courage for him to knock on my door. Damned if I don't know that feeling. _

 

"Want some tea?" She indicated a pot she'd set to boil over a low fire in her fireplace.

 

"Please." He stood awkwardly in her room, long arms wrapped around his barrel chest. His white fur stuck out at odd angles on his arms and head.  _ Huh. He has bed fur. He probably had to bathe to get the blood off, then went to bed still damp.  _

 

She poured two mugs of tea, handed him one, and indicated a chair. "I'm glad you knocked, actually. I think I know who the archer is."

 

"You do?" Medrid hitched himself up to the chair. 

 

She blew out a long, slow breath and sat down next to him, on a corner of her bed. "His name is Nat. Nateli, actually, but everybody called him Nat. Someone from my past, that I had hoped would  _ stay  _ in my past. He has powerful gifts of Fetching and Farsight and he's ... malicious."

 

"Your husband." Medrid said, blowing on his tea to cool it. 

 

"Yes." 

 

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, then she continued. "I was thirteen when I married him. I thought we'd live happily ever after ... he's the son of a landed noble, he seemed very romantic, you know? I had a title, and servants, and horses, I was lady of the house, and I thought I'd have the perfect life ..." 

 

"Didn't work out that way, huh?" Medrid sipped his tea. 

 

"No." Meditatively, she swirled a spoonful of honey into her tea. "It didn't."

 

"I know all about shattered dreams." Medrid's voice was tiny. 

 

"Yeah. I suppose you do." She quirked a sad smile at him. "And guilt, too, I'll warrant. Even when things aren't really your fault."

 

He gave her a startled look. Then he closed his eyes, and nodded. 

 

"He did a lot of terrible things to me, then told me it was my fault and that if I'd been a good girl, he wouldn't have had to punish me. And the worst part is, I believed him. I believed a lot of things he said."

 

Medrid heard the pain in her voice, and said softly, "I know about guilt, too."

 

She blew out a slow breath again, "Terance is telling Gwena what we think is going on. I assume Gwena will tell Elspeth and from there, the word will get out. They're going to hate me, I suppose."

 

"Whatever for?" He demanded, somewhat startled.

 

"For bringing him here. For getting Fyfle hurt ... Terance and Fyfle look a lot alike."

 

"But that's not your fault!" He protested. 

 

She sighed, "It's not?"

 

"No!" He said, with real anger. "It's his fault!" 

 

"Maybe. But I know what he's capable of. I never should have come here. I  _ knew _ he'd follow me. I just hoped he wouldn't." She looked away, and swallowed hard several times. "I'm his, Medrid. I belong to him. By the laws of my people, by his claim, I'm his. And he'll do anything to have me back, including killing Terance or anyone else that stands in his way."

 

"He'll have to come through  _ all  _ of us." Medrid said this with real ferocity. 

 

She looked back at him, surprised by the rage in his voice. Medrid's teeth glinted sharply in the lamplight.

 

"Oh, what are you going to do? Bite his kneecaps off?" She spoke with gentle teasing in her voice, teasing that hid her own pain.

 

Medrid didn't take offense. Firmly, heatedly, he said, "Not just me! I may not be the most popular person here at the Collegium, but shooting a Companion is a pretty major offense against the Crown. You can bet that they'll deal with him." 

 

"Thing is, he's got a powerful Fetching gift, and Farsight. He doesn't have to see someone to shoot them with that damned bow of his. As soon as the coast is clear, as soon as they're not watching for another attack, he'll try again."

 

She shivered. "Truth to tell, I don't know what the range on his Farsight is. He could be watching me right now."

 

He leaned forward and rested a hand on her wrist. "Erran, you have friends here. Leselie's your lover, I'm your friend, Terance is your Companion. We  _ all  _ love you.  And don't  _ forget _ that, do you hear me?"

 

She looked him sharply in the eyes. He met her gaze with a level, unflinching look that seemed to see right through her to her heart and soul.  _ Great good gods, is  _ this  _ the  _ same  _ creature who snaps and snarls at anyone who dares to speak to him?  _

 

He looked away suddenly and mumbled, "Leselie's rubbing off on me, I think."

 

_ No. That wasn't Leselie's influence. I just saw who Medrid really is, I think, or what he would have been and could still be.  _ Somebody  _ upstairs thinks he's special too, or he wouldn't be getting the attention of two Heraldic ghosts. But why does he trust  _ me  _ like this? Did it just take a few kind words to win his friendship? I'm not sure what that says about him ... or about the other students here. Or about me. _

 

_ :Thank you.:  _ She thought at him. Mere words seemed insignificant; it was his implicit trust in her, the way he'd said "I'm your friend," and, "We  _ all  _ love you," that had somehow eased her fears as much as the words themselves had. 

 

And he  _ flinched  _ away, and snapped up powerful shields, blocking her out. "Don't do that." 

 

"Sorry!" She apologized. 

 

He shook his head, "No, you didn't know. I ... I spent so long not knowing where my emotions and thoughts I ended and the rest of humanity's began, I'm just not comfortable with mindspeech now. The ghosts are bad enough; when it's another human, it ... well ... it's just not something I'm easy with. I guess I want to be sure about where my own reality ends and everyone else's begins before I mindspeak anyone."

 

"I'm sorry." She said again, and rested her hand on his shoulder. 

 

He glanced up at her, then looked back down at his hands. He muttered something she couldn't make out.

 

_ He feels bad, because he shoved me away. He's confused, though, I think ... he's been so long without friends that he normally  _ does _ shove people away.  _

 

"You've got friends too." 

 

He looked at her again. "I ... I know."

 

"How long ... how long were you alone?" 

 

He met her gaze for a moment before responding, "It was late fall, when the world ... when  _ I  _ changed. And late fall again when Leselie and Yarella found me. So about a year."

 

"That must have been terrifying." She said.

 

"You have no idea." He leaned against the back of the chair, and stared at his bare feet, which were stretched out before him on the chair. 

 

She removed her hand from his shoulder, and wrung her fingers together for a moment, then said softly, "I know what being alone is like. I was alone for four years, even though I was married. He wouldn't let me have any friends, you know? He even framed my best friend, a stable boy I'd known all my life, for a crime he didn’t commit. I didn't realize it at first, that he was isolating me. He just said he wanted us to spend 'time alone' together. Then suddenly I had no friends and no family left to speak to ...." 

 

She rose from the bed, and paced restlessly, "But then I realized I was  _ alone _ . And it started getting ... bad ... between us. I had nobody to turn to, no one to talk to, nowhere to go." 

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"Then Terance found me ... and he put his life at risk to save me. He's  _ still  _ putting his life at risk. You've seen the scars he carries? Nat did that ... I was ... was with child, and it was close to my time so Terance waited to tell me what he was, to Chose me, because of that." Despite the subject, her lips quirked up into a fond smile. "Terance's a rather red-blooded, ordinary male, when it's all said and done. He was afraid I'd have the babe on the road, and that scared  _ him  _ more than it scared  _ me _ ."

 

"I can rather imagine." Medrid said, then asked softly, "And the child?"

 

A look of profound sorrow crossed her face. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and buried her face in her hands, and said nothing. She felt him step from the chair to the bed, then sit down next to her. Long arms wrapped around her shoulders in a comforting hug.  "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

 

"He ... he was perfect.  _ Perfect _ . I don't understand why ... I don't understand." She breathed into her hands. "Nat ... Nat said it was  _ my  _ fault. He said I'd  _ worked too hard _ and that I’d killed his son ...  that I killed the other two before him, too ..."

 

"Shh." Medrid said.

 

She twisted towards him, and wrapped her arms around him, and began to cry with deep, gulping sobs. Medrid held her, letting her cry, tears streaming down his own face. "I'm so sorry," He whispered into her shoulder, "So sorry."

 

* * *

 

_ Hm. I don't see Erran -- well, there's a few of the Bardic students, I'll sit with them. Bards are always fun. Erran's probably sleeping in; we all had a late night. _

 

Leselie carried his breakfast across the dining hall, and waved at the Bardic trainees, "Care if I join you?"

 

"Sure, Leselie." The oldest of the students, a young man Leselie's own age named Regor, waved back. The others were Ariana, Haley, and Arnie.

 

He claimed a seat between Regor and Ariana -- she was perhaps thirteen, of noble birth, with blond hair and a pretty face. Ariana asked, "How's that translation of that Shin'a'in ballad coming?" 

 

Leselie shook his head, "I've been busy; haven't had a chance to work on it."

 

"So how many languages do you speak, anyway?" Haley asked. 

 

"Fluently? About a dozen.  Just don't ask me to spell anything." He shrugged. "Not so fluently? A few others. -- It's a gift I have, languages are easy for me."

 

"That's going to be useful for a Herald." Regor observed.

 

He nodded. "They're making noises about training me as a diplomat. Not sure what I think about that, but from a practical standpoint, that might be the best fit for me. I don't  _ see  _ very well," He indicated his spectacles, "And if I lost these in a battle, I'd be in trouble. Forget fighting -- I'd be lucky if I could find my Companion." He said the last in an aggrieved tone of voice.

 

Ariana giggled. She started to say something, but then changed her comment in midstream. "You ... oh, hey, there's Medrid."

 

All the students looked sharply at the Changechild, who had just entered with Erran, and then back at Leselie. Ariana opened her mouth and added, "I don't know what you see in that boy; he's rude and obnoxious to us all the time. 'Just leave me alone!' He screams, when we're just being  _ nice. _ "

 

Leselie gave her a penetrating stare. "If he wants to be left alone, then leave him alone. There's no law that says he has to be social just because you're curious about him."

 

Objections rumbled around the table, with everyone trying to interject a Medrid story simultaneously.

 

Leselie drummed his fingers on the table for a moment.  _ Diplomat, huh? How the hell am I supposed to be a diplomat if I can't get four basically good Bards to accept my best friend?  _

 

Erran saw him, waved, and headed in his direction. Medrid, whose head was only barely higher than the top of the table, didn't see who he was  _ with  _ until they were much closer. Then he stopped short, and gave Leselie an unreadable look. He started to turn away.

 

Erran planted a hand on his shoulder and said impatiently, "Come on, Medrid. They won't bite. And if they do, you've got bigger teeth to return the favor with."

 

Reluctantly, Medrid let her propel him to a seat. She slid in next to him, and asked, "Anyone hear how Fyfle's doing?"

 

Leselie nodded, "I stopped by Seya's room on the way over here. She said that there shouldn't be any lasting damage, and that he's conscious, though weak from the blood loss." He indicated Medrid with a biscuit that he was holding in his hand, " _ Katara _ had good things to say about the work you did, runt. She said if you hadn't jumped in the instant you did, it might have gone badly. It took another quarter-candlemark for someone equal to your strength to get to the scene, and by then ... by then it might have been too late. So you saved Fyfle's life, they think."

 

"Medrid's a hero?" Ariana said, surprise in her voice.

 

"Guess so." Medrid mumbled, and reached with one long arm for a pitcher of milk. 

 

"Don't look so startled, Ariana." Erran snapped, after a sharp glare at the young student. 

 

Medrid glanced up at her, surprised by the protective tone in her voice. He shrugged, and poured himself a glass. "I just did what needed to be done. I'm no hero ... saving a life doesn't cancel out the ones that I've ended." 

 

Silence reigned at the table. Then Leselie coughed, and said, "So, Erran, are you up for a couple rounds of fifty-card tonight?" 

 

She shook her head, "I've got ... I've got some things I need to discuss with a few people. I'd rather leave my evening open, in case ... well, I don't know."

 

His face fell. 

 

She added, "It's nothing you did, love. It's just ... well, I'll tell you later."

 

"Oh." He glanced at the Bardic students, who were watching their interplay with curiosity.  _ Heh. One thing you don't do around Bards is talk about your private life. Gossipy creatures, they are.  _

 

Ariana said brightly, "So you two are lovers, then?"

 

Erran turned an interesting shade of scarlet and stared intently at her hands. She glanced up furtively at Leselie, then turned an even brighter color, and looked back down. Leselie said, with a smile, "I suppose so."

 

She looked at him again and mumbled her own confirmation, "Yeah."

 

 _Ach. More to talk to her about, I guess. Why is she embarrassed by me?_ Leselie wondered.

 

Medrid tugged on her arm, until she bent over. He whispered something in her ear, and she barked a surprised laugh and the color faded from her cheeks. Medrid grinned at her, a toothy grin, and ladled himself a helping of porridge.

 

_ Oh, now, that's curious. Wonder what the runt said to her? Probably something macabre; Medrid's sense of humor tends to run towards the black at best.  _


	10. Chapter 10

_ :Erran, we've talked it over, about Nat.:  _ Terance told her, that afternoon, as she was heading towards the bathing rooms to soak after another bruising session of weapons training.  _ :A couple of the Herald-mages are going to set a trap. If he -- whoever he is, Nat or not -- tries to fetch arrows at us again, he'll trigger it.: _

 

_ :What kind of trap -- what about bystanders?: _

 

_ :My suggestion was to have him go up in flames, but that probably would  _ not  _ do anything for public confidence towards Herald-mages. So, instead, the arrows will incinerate and he'll be tagged with a magical tracer that we can hunt down. He's no mage; he won't even know he's been tagged.: _

 

_ :What then?: _

 

_ :Then we  _ deal  _ with him.: _

 

She responded with a wordless, gut-level reaction of horror.

 

_ :Damnit, Erran, that bastard is a ...: _ Terance started to growl.

 

_ :I know he's a misborn son of a sow,:  _ She used one of Terance' favorite phrases,  _ :But Terance, he was -- is -- my husband. I married him because I  _ loved  _ him and part of me still does.: _

 

Terance' reaction was angry -- at her, and at the man who had abused that love.  It was also sputteringly incoherent. When he recovered enough to make sense, he snapped,  _ :Two candlemarks ago, you were bawling on Medrid's shoulder because of that bastard, and now you tell me you still love him? : _

 

_ :Well ... just don't  _ kill  _ him. I don't think I could deal with that. Because some small part of me would always wonder if there was something I could have done different, you know?: _

 

Terance snapped indignantly,  _ :Yeah, like killing him yourself where he slept.: _

 

_ :Love you, hayburner.:  _ The anger in his mindvoice was starting to get to her; she defused it with the mental version of a hug.

 

_ :Mhmmhmm. Now, how are you and Leselie doing?: _

 

 _:Oh, Terance. Leselie's so sweet ... but I don't know if I'm ever going to be as comfortable with, with, with Heraldic morals as most of the Collegium is.:_ She just couldn't get past an upbringing that had equated sex with shame, and which had included seeing women burned as "witches" because they had committed adultery. She couldn't exactly return to Karse to divorce Nat -- she might not even legally be allowed a divorce even if she could safely go home -- and the Heralds did not consider her married any longer, but  _she_ did. It was difficult to reconcile her upbringing with the rather pragmatic approach the Valdemarans took to such matters.  

 

_ :Well, I could always kill Nat for you and then you could  _ marry  _ Leselie.:  _ Terance said, in dryly pragmatic tones.   


 

She barked a laugh as she opened the door to her hall.  _ :Between you and Medrid, I'm going to die of embarrassment yet. Besides, even if I could divorce him, it would still be horribly scandalous by Karse laws for me to sleep with a man without wedding vows between us. It's ... hard. I don't know that I'll ever get over it.: _

 

_ :What did Medrid do?: _ Terance changed the subject.

 

_ :It’s more what he said.:  _ She related Ariana's question to him.

 

_ :Nosy little brat.: _

 

_ :Yeah, that's Ariana. She's just that way, you know? But I wanted to drop right through the floor, I was so embarrassed.:  _ She shook her head,  _ :I know the Heralds don't find ... liaisons ... the slightest bit scandalous, but it's never something I'll be comfortable with even if everyone I know is cheering me on. Anyway, Medrid -- bless him -- leans over and whispers in my ear, 'Could be worse. Could be me that you’re with, instead of Leselie.': _

 

Terance was less amused than she'd hoped.  _ :Mm. Be careful with him, Erran. Be his friend, but don't ... don't lead him onto thinking about anything else.: _

 

_ :Don't break his heart. I know. Still ...:  _ She shook her head, and didn't complete that thought. She didn’t quite dare articulate the longing she felt whenever she was with man. If only ... well, damnit, she just _enjoyed_ being in his presence more than anyone she'd ever known in her life. Leselie was fun, but Medrid seemed to _fit_ with her in ways nobody ever had before.   


 

_ :I'm not worried about what he looks like, 'Erran. He’s every bit as human as anyone else, at his core. I'm worried about  _ you.  _ After Nat ... well, I just want to see you connected with someone a bit more stable than Medrid. You deserve to have someone you can rely on, someone you can trust. : _

 

_ :Ah. And Leselie's a rock and you don’t think Medrid is trustworthy.:  _ That made her angry, and it also felt  _ wrong _ . Medrid, she knew instinctively, could be trusted with her heart and soul. _. :Is that why you pushed me towards Leselie? You think he’s the  _ safe  _ answer? I haven’t been safe at any time in my life. I wouldn’t know what to do with safe.:  _

 

Silence from Terance confirmed her guess.  _ :Eh, don't worry about it, hayburner. I knew I was being pushed all along. Maybe I wanted to be. Leselie's a doll; I wish I'd married someone like him rather than Nat.: _

 

 _:They allow divorce in this country.:_ Terance said, cheerily. _:I bet we could talk to the courts and figure something out so you could divorce him  
_ here _, if that's really what's bothering you. Though, quite honestly, I don't think your Gods would expect you to heed your marriage vows to a man who tried to kill you -- and me and my_ brother _on multiple occasions. I think that's grounds for an annulment, myself.:_  


 

_ :Oh, hush.:  _ She started to climb the stairs to her floor.  _ :Anyway, Heralds rarely marry. I've already figured that one out.: _

 

_ :Yeah. I'm just an incurable romantic and I want to see it work out with you and Leselie. That means getting you comfortable with the idea -- and if getting you comfortable includes figuring out how to divorce that monster legally, so be it. We'll figure it out.: _

 

_ :Love you.: _

 

_ :Mmhmm.: _

 

She reached her room and pushed the unlocked door open. 

 

_ :Okay, he is sweet.:  _ She laughed, seeing a rose on her pillow and a note. Her day was instantly brighter. That was definitely Leselie’s work; the only other person who might have given her a flower was Medrid, and she suspected his flowers would come  _ without  _ notes. Anonymous gifts seemed more Medrid’s style. She picked the note up, and scanned it. 

 

_ ill be in my rume tonite, if you want to come by we can go for a ride by moonlite maybe go swiming in the river? _   
  
_ love,  _   
_ Leselie _

 

There were a number of misspellings in the note -- Leselie had not been kidding when he'd said that written language wasn't his gift. His handwriting was also cramped and unsteady and there were a number of ink blotches. Suddenly savage in her mood, she thought,  _ I can't let that bastard run my life! -- my instinct is to hide inside, but Nat can see me inside or out. And if he  _ is  _ in the city, it'll tweak his beard but good to see me fooling around with Leselie. And Terance sounds sure that he wouldn't be able to attack us again.  _

 

_ :How about it, horseface? Want to go for a ride with your lady-love tonight?: _

 

Terance' response was enthusiastically  _ affirmative  _ and very definitely male. Erran laughed aloud,  _ :You are the biggest romantic in the world, you know that?.:  _ She thought at him, with fond amusement. 

 

_ :Yup. Gotta love me.: _

 

_ :Love you.: _

 

_ :Mmmhmmm, that's right.: _

 

* * *

 

 

_ "Yeeeeahaaaaaaa! _ " 

 

Yarella hit the water at a dead run and leaped, sending up a huge plume of water. The water braked her headlong forward run and Leselie, who had been standing on her back, turned their momentum into a dive over her head and into the river. He hit the moonlit river with barely a ripple to mark his entry into the deep water.

 

_ :You want to try that?:  _ Terance suggested, sounding hopeful. 

 

Erran laughed,  _ :Sure.: _

 

He wheeled on his haunches, cantered away from the edge of the river, and visualized a quick run-through of what they were going to do. The leap into the water, his sudden halt, and the dive off his back.

 

_ :Don't forget to put your head down.:  _ She said, imagining the hard impact of his skull against her gut.

 

_ :Ouch. Yes.:  _

 

She stood up, balance a little shaky. Terance moved smoothly into an easy canter -- slower than Yarella's headlong plunge, but Leselie was a much better rider than she was. 

 

When he leaped into the water, she fell over his shoulder and hit the water with a tremendous splash that was extremely ungraceful and undignified. She heard Terrance' mental amusement before she surfaced; Leselie was laughing when she finally made it up for air. 

 

She sputtered, said a rude word, and swam back to shore. The current was sluggish here, and the river deep and steep-sided. The water tugged at the old shirt and trousers she'd worn for swimming; she could have skinny-dipped but since they were swimming  _ with  _ the Companions, she'd elected to wear clothes. This was a remote enough area that spectators were unlikely, but riding naked, even just horseplay in the water, sounded like a singularly uncomfortable idea. 

 

Leselie shouted helpfully, "Yarella and I practiced that for months before we got it right."

 

"Right." She blew water out of her nose. 

 

Terance splashed up behind her, and shook like a dog, showering her with river water. "Hey!"

 

Then she saw the evil gleam in his eyes, and realized he was tightly shielding his intent from her. Before she could dodge, he shoved her hard with his nose, causing her to fall forward back into the river.

 

"Hey!" She repeated. standing back up and grinning at him. 

 

He dropped his shields and said,  _ :Got you!: _

 

Sardonically, she responded,  _ :Love you, horse.: _

 

_ :Oh, I know. Love the horse.: _

 

Suddenly, he threw up his shields again and she planted her hands on her hips in mock-protest.  _ :Oh, no. Not again.: _

 

Hands wrapped around her ankles and yanked her under the water. And  _ terror  _ gripped her.  _ He's going to hold me under! Terror! Lungs burning, drowning, help, help, help! _

 

The hands immediately released her and she lunged for the surface of the water with frantic fear. "Gotcha." Leselie's voice said cheerily, as soon as she surfaced.

 

She didn't respond, she just struck out for shore. She saved her breath for swimming, arms windmilling through the water and eyes wide.

 

_ :Easy, Erran.:  _ Terrance said, mildly.  _ :He's just playing. He's not going to torture you.: _

 

_ :Nat used to do that and hold me under. He thought it was funny.:  _ She was shaking.

 

"Erran?" Leselie said, following her. He snatched his spectacles up from a riverside rock. "You okay?" 

 

"I'm fine." She found a rock beside the river and sat down on it. 

 

"What ... what did I do?" Leselie sounded hurt. He followed her, and couldn't fail to notice how frightened she looked.

 

"Don't pull me under like that. I really don't like it."

 

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Come on back in, I promise I won't do that again."  He offered her his hand. 

 

She shook her head, and didn't take his hand. Cold fear still gripped her gut. "Leselie, I'm sorry. This was a bad idea, I think, tonight."

 

_ Oh, Sun-lord save me, He's out there, I know that he is. And I  _ don't  _ know that the palace mages will be able to defend Terance or Leselie or Yarella if he starts shooting arrows off again. I've been so careless. How could I be so careless? _

 

_ Because I want this life. I want to be a Herald. I want Terance in my heart and soul for the rest of my life. I want to be free to bed Leselie with nobody saying anything or thinking anything amiss ...he's such a doll ... and I want to talk to Medrid about anything and everything ...  _ The thought of talking to Medrid warmed her heart and made her feel a little better,  _ And I don't want some shit-throwing mangy ape ruining my life.  _

 

"You okay?" Leselie crouched down before her. 

 

"Yeah. Just ... oh, I don't want to go into it. Bad memories." 

 

"Come on back in." He gestured at the water. 

 

_ But as much as this life's a dream come true, I fear that bastard isn't going to let me go until he's dead, or I am. _

 

She stood up, "Leselie, I think I'm done swimming for the day. It's not you, it's me. I just ..."

 

"It's okay." He said lightly, but it  _ wasn't  _ okay. He was hugging himself, and he looked very disappointed and sad. She was surprised he wasn’t angry.

 

She stood up and pecked a kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry. Just bad memories I think I need to sort through. You’ve done nothing wrong."

 

_ :Oh, Erran. You can't let that bunghole run your life like this.: _

 

_ :Terance, I just don't feel like company any more tonight. Walk with me back to my room?: _

 

Unhappily, he rubbed his nose against her shoulder.  _ :You need to live your life, Erran. You can't ...: _

 

_ :I just want to go back to my room. Please?: _

 

_ :Okay.:  _ He said, and sent her the mental version of a sigh.

 

"I'm going to head back to my room, Leselie. I just ... I think I've had enough tonight."

 

"I'll walk with you." He said, instantly.

 

"I've got Terance with me. I'll be okay." 

 

Leselie's face fell. "Okay." 

 

_ I feel like I just kicked a puppy.  _ She turned her back, and began the long walk across the Field to her room, with Terance trailing unhappily behind her. 

 

* * *

 

"What did I do, 'Ella?" Leselie asked, walking in the other direction, towards the wildest and remotest parts of the Field. "I ... I said I was sorry."

 

_*Not your fault.*_ She cast the words before him as they walked. _*Erran's con-fus-ed right now.*_

 

"About  _ what? _ " He said, "First I think she likes me, then she shoves me away, then she acts like she likes me again, then she gets all cold and runs away again. What am I doing wrong?"

 

_ *It's  not  _ _you.*_ Yarella repeated, and then told him about Erran's theory about who had attacked Fyfle.

 

"Shit. I feel like a shit. Why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't  _ she  _ tell me?"

 

_*She's scared. She's embarr-assed.  She wants to pretend this isn't happening.*_

 

"I've got to go talk to her ..." 

 

_ *No. Let her go. She wants to be alone right now.* _

 

"Is that a wise idea?"

 

Yarella followed his concern without any problems. _*She'll be fine. She's not suicidal, she's just upset. Respect her privacy. Her husband never did, I imagine.*_

 

"I think I love her, 'Ella." He said, softly. 

 

Ella stopped, and faced him. She studied his face for a moment then shook her head. _*No, you don't. You think you do, but you don't. You're in lust, boy, not love.*_

 

"You're wrong."

 

_ *No, I'm not." _

 

"What makes you so sure?"

 

_ *Experience.* _

 

"Arrogance." He countered, folding his arms. 

 

_*That, too.*_ She agreed readily enough.

 

He sighed, "I just ... I was just hoping she'd be the one, you know? I've always dreamed of a girl to spend the rest of my life with. Someone to devote my life to. But I've never stayed in one place for more than a few months, a year at most. Not too many fathers are willing to let their daughters marry a vagabond like me, you know what I mean? And now I've  _ got  _ a home. Here, as a Herald. And it feels so  _ good  _ to have a home. And I was hoping ... dreaming ..."

 

He blew out a sharp sigh, and ran troubled hands through his short white hair. "I was hoping she'd love me, and I'd have a home  _ and  _ a wife and the life I've always dreamed of."

 

Yarella nosed his shoulder. _*You have a girl.*_

 

"She doesn't love me." He said, miserably. "I'm not sure if she's even  _ attracted  _ to me."

 

_*I meant that you have me.*_ She pushed her nose against his chest, until he laced his hands across the top of her head, and buried his face in her forelock. 

 

"Thanks, sweetie." He mumbled, eyes stinging with tears. He scrunched them shut and clung to her. "I know I'll always have you."

 

He couldn't see her response with his eyes closed, so she simply stood there for a long while, offering what small comfort she could. The silent tears that ran down his face were damp against the short velvet hairs on her forehead.

 

* * *

 


End file.
